


Time After Time

by lantia4ever



Series: Time and Souls [1]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Bad Puns, Fluff and Humor, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Infinity Stone Soul World (Marvel), Infinity Stones Are Sentient, Language, M/M, Memes, Minor Original Character(s), No happy endings, Not Steve Rogers Friendly, Not Wanda Friendly, PTSD/anxiety elements, Pre-Relationship, Protective Stephen Strange, Roguevengers saltiness, Sign Language, Slow Burn, Sorcerer Supreme Stephen Strange, Time Shenanigans, Tony Stark Doesn't Like Being Handed Things, Tony Stark doesn't talk much after Siberia, Vision/Nebula
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 12:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 64,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20564492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lantia4ever/pseuds/lantia4ever
Summary: Months after dealing with Dormammu, the Time Stone offers Stephen a deal – it will fix his hands so he can once again be a doctor.For a price. A balance.It's everything Stephen could ever wish for and the price is laughably insignificant - so he accepts. After all, what could he possibly ever love more than becoming a doctor again?Written for the IronStrange BigBang 2019 \o/





	1. PROLOGUE

**Author's Note:**

> Dear IronStrangers! ^^ Sit back, relax and enjoy this insane ride through the one and only time I will ever attempt an Endgame-compliant fic. Ever. And when I say compliant...liberties were taken where needed, which applies to the entire timeline of the MCU :3 Canon... *bursts out laughing*
> 
> Big thanks to Chordsodsteal for beta-ing the fic & [Nukternl](https://nukternl.tumblr.com/) for her lovely art! <3
> 
> Enjoy the read!
> 
> ~Lantia

* * *

In a world full of weird sentient magical artifacts, a sentient little green jewel doesn’t even surprise Stephen anymore.

The Cloak was surprising. The sentient tea set that keeps eating all the sugar anyone throws into it and spills anything that isn’t quality tea leaves – that was weirdly surprising.

The Eye of Agamotto – or rather the Time stone inside it being an intelligent sentient being? At that point, when the stone actually spoke to him just days after the battle with Dormammu, Stephen just shrugged it away.

Weird? Yes. Surprising? Not anymore. Annoying? Sometimes.

** _Let’s play a game._ **

“I’m trying to meditate in here,” he mumbles out loud.

** _Even better. You can practice performing multiple tasks at once, feeble human._ **

“I’ll pass.”

** _You can also prove you know the Imagine Dragons discography better than I._ **

“I don’t have to prove that, _of course_ I know it better.”

** _‘~Welcome to the land of hire, I hope you brought the right attire, the crippled man is waiting at the door ~’ _ **

Stephen groans at the poorly drawled out tones and any remnant of his previously acquired Zen goes out the window. “Seriously? ‘I need a minute’, from the 2009 Imagine Dragons EP. There, proved it. Now please never sing again.”

** _Oh, but we’re just getting started. ‘Last things last by the grace of the fire and the flames, you're the face of the future, the blood in my veins, oh oooooh, the blood in my veins, oh oooooh ~’_ **

“That’s…not an Imagine Dragons song.”

** _Not yet it’s not._ **

“You’re trying to cheat your way to victory by using their _future_ song? How desperate do you have to be?”

** _About as desperate as you are now to live long enough to actually listen to this future song._ **

Aside from disrupting his meditation sessions, his study and practice of the Mystic arts and even pestering his astral form, the most annoying thing it does is actually making Stephen respond to it.

Whether out of spite or curiosity – or a combination of both – he just can’t resist.

Wong is so not amused by walking in on Stephen talking to himself in an empty room all the time.

**_Very well, Master of the Music Arts. You win!_** – the stone tells him one night, after apparently losing their guessing game.

“You serious?” Stephen frowns.

** _Of course. So tell me, what is it you would desire as your reward?_ **

He scoffs, letting out a tired sigh. “Some peace and quiet would be really nice.”

** _Is that so? Is that truly what you most desire?_ **

“What are you now, the genie in the lamp? A goldfish? My fairy godmother?”

** _Don’t be foolish, I am not granting you three wishes – just one. Ah. How about a good sense of humor, you are clearly so very lacking one. _ **

“I want ice-cream then. Ben&Jerry’s is launching Avengers flavored edition soon, sounds…weird and disturbing so how about that?”

** _We both know what it is that you most desire – question is, are you capable of even voicing it?_ **

Stephen shifts in his seat, fighting off the shudder those words send down his spine. The Time stone as an entity is rather harmless on its own. It doesn’t just do things, not without being steered by whoever is wielding it. Every now and then, it gives Stephen a tiny insight on just how powerful and knowledgeable it is.

It should scare him. It should scare him _a lot_. Instead, it intrigues him, because apparently even encounters with demons from other dimensions aren’t enough to quench his curiosity.

The thing he most desires is simple – he wants to go back to being a neurosurgeon.

Sure, he’s not the man he was a year ago anymore. Not really. Even though he might have embraced his new reality as the Master of the Mystic arts, living in the Sanctum with a Beyoncé fanboy wizard and enough sentient relics to make his head hurt, there will always be a part of him longing to go back to being a doctor.

It was always his calling. It’s what he does best and what he enjoys doing above everything else. His reasons and approach are different now but other than that, little else changed when it comes to neurosurgery, something he studied for years of sleepless, party-less nights and practiced longer still.

All the effort, the ambitions and hard work – gone in an instant. Irreparable. Broken. Lost.

He could do what that other man did – sacrifice his magic for his own personal gain and go back to being a doctor – but now that he’s seen what’s out there, the horrors, evils and most of all, the wonders hidden in the corners of every dimension, he can’t go back. It’s a new kind of calling and he’s content with it.

He can be the Master of the New York Sanctum and protect the Earth’s dimension – or he can practice medicine again. He can’t do both, so he made his choice.

This way, he can save more people he could ever hope to save as a doctor. The sentiment was what motivated him to pursue medicine in the first place. Not that he remembered it for too long, suddenly getting lost in the glamour, the lifestyle, the fame.

He’s content to protect and save lives this way now.

** _Are you really? What if I told you there is a way. _ **

“How about no. Thank you. I would rather not mess with the natural order any more than I have already.”

** _Ugh. You sorcerers and your natural order. Is it beyond your minds to fathom the inner workings of the universe I am such an inseparable part of?_ **

“Yes, I know, you and your stone siblings were created at the dawn of existence of this dimension…which apparently makes you think you can just mess around with order of things whenever you want.”

** _Everything I do is well within the natural laws and universal order. Breaking reality is a specialty of my red acquaintance and I would never dare to break time. Time is I. And I decide what is time and what is not. What happened and what did not. What will happen and what will not. That, my foolish sorcerer, is the true nature of order. _ **

Stephen frowns, contemplating the words. “I…don’t think your definition of order is the same as mine.”

** _Clearly._ **

“Besides, even you cannot simply undo what’s already been done without actually breaking time.”

** _Have I or have I not undone your thousand deaths? Returning your fickle flesh and bones back to as they were before the demon had its way with you?_ **

“That’s exactly what I meant by messing around with order of things.”

** _Oh child, for all your wisdom and spirit, you are forgetting yourself. Who are you to decide what was meant to transpire there that night, within the depths of the darkest of dimensions? It is I who decides. _ **

“I’m sure there’s still a price to pay for that…the reckoning,” he mutters, shuddering as he remembers Mordo’s words.

** _There is always a price. A moment of time cannot cease to exist without another being created in its stead – and one cannot be created without another ceasing to exist. There is your order, child. The simplest of balance. _ **

“What are you saying…that the moment Dormammu consumed the Earth just…ceased to exist as a result of what we’ve done and instead something else is going to happen now?”

** _Now, then or eternity later, yes. Precisely. Action causes reaction. Decision prompts consequence. Chaos returns to balance. How many more words should I use for you to understand?_ **

Stephen has to admit that however mindboggling the stone’s logic is, there is logic in it. Albeit being difficult to grasp after decades of understanding order as an entirely different concept. Especially when it comes to the Mystic arts. It goes against what the Ancient One and Mordo tried to teach him.

And he’s not ready to allow himself to believe they might have both been wrong.

** _As I said – there is a way._ **

“To keep my magic and have my hands back – both?” he asks despite himself. It’s not like he’s agreeing to anything, he’s just asking.

** _Yes, sorcerer. You can have your hands and keep your magic – both._ **

“How?” he squints in suspicion.

** _It is simple. I will make it so that the moment your hands suffered the irreparable damage never happened. That is what you desire the most – and to keep the balance, your beloved order, I will take away the moment you will desire the most in your future as it is at this moment. _ **

Something he _will_ desire the most? That’s too cryptic even for him. “What is it?”

** _Does it matter? Does it really?_ **

_No_, Stephen realizes. What could he possibly ever desire more than to have his hands back? Nothing could compare, _nothing_. But what if? “Maybe?”

** _Very well. With one moment ceasing to exist – another will have to take its place. It will forever prevent you from obtaining what you will one day desire the most. _ **

“Yes, yes I understand that part. What is it though?!”

There’s a pause, as if the stone was contemplating if and what to answer with.

** _Love. _ **

“Love?” Stephen blurts out incredulously, eye-brows shooting up. “That’s…not what I expected.” Especially since it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s heard since before he found magic was real.

** _You wish to regain that which you love the most – your ability to be a doctor. To balance that, you must forfeit that which you would love the most in the future. _ **

Love isn’t exactly something he expects to be burdened with anytime soon and even if…surgery is what he loves. Being a doctor is what he loves. Being a doctor _and_ a sorcerer both? What else is there for him to love after that?

A person? In some grotesque rom-com manner? Christine could be his character witness and a singular proof that romance is not what he’s good at should _that _ever happen. He’s had his fair share of flings and quick romances ignited by lust only for them to be quenched just as quickly as they came to be.

And yet, that’s what the stone insinuates. Should he forget all about this offer and go on with his life, Stephen would one day in his current future desire love above all else – and get it. Should he accept the offer, that will never happen.

** _I see you are not taking the matter lightly. I know men that wouldn’t think twice about accepting this, men with no regard for their future and the impact of their decision. _ **

“Who said I’m thinking about accepting your offer at all?!”

** _You need not to speak for me to know. _ **

“What are you now, the Mind stone?”

** _I do not require your mind to see and know what you are thinking of – I am time and time is I. Your past, present and future is no mystery to me. _ **

“In other words, you already know I’m going to accept this.”

** _I know that you don’t consider love something you would desire more than having your hands – and your life – back._ **

Stephen rolls his eyes and suddenly wishes the stone had a physical or at least an astral form that he could glare at right now. “_So in other words_, you already know,” he repeats.

** _In other words._ **

“It’s true…I don’t consider it…,” he pauses.

**_More important_** – the stone supplies, effectively finishing Stephen’s train of thought.

There. It’s out. As heartless and cold and selfish as it sounds, he’s given up on love decades ago – for a lot less than this. Giving up on it again to get his life back shouldn’t even be a question now.

“Is that it? Is that all there is to this…exchange?” he clarifies when he’s met with a patient silence he’s learnt to recognize in the past few weeks.

** _What else do you have in mind?_ **

“Well…there’s usually a catch. Whenever something is too good to be true.”

** _Is it? Too good to be true?_ **

“Yes?”

** _And yet you don’t sound very certain._ **

“It’s too good to be _just that_.”

** _If you say so._ **

Stephen waits for more half-assed wisdoms or prompts from the stone, but it’s apparently done talking to him. After all, the offer’s been made and all there is left to say now has to come from Stephen.

Accept or refuse.

The stone already knows the answer. Stephen already knows, too.

“If I say yes, how much am I going to regret it one day?” he eventually voices the sinister thought plaguing him from the beginning of the entire discussion. “Am I going to regret saying yes more than saying no?”

** _Only time will tell. _ **

“Time is you,” Stephen repeats mockingly.

** _Then one day, I will tell._ **

He didn’t expect a straight answer from the most cryptic being he’s ever met in his life – and he once thought the Ancient One couldn’t possibly be beaten in this regard.

In a way, the stone did answer him though. It carefully implied there will be enough regret to go around regardless of his choice.

If there ever really was a choice to begin with.

“I accept your offer.”


	2. Chapter 2

**_They are not even trying now, are they?_** the stone complains, recognizing the first beat of Michael Jackson’s _They don’t really care about us_ in an instant.

That’s what Stephen gets for bringing magical artifacts to work. Good thing he’s completely focused on the brain he’s hands deep in.

“Vitals?” he asks, smirking at the exasperated huff that comes from the stone whenever it’s offended at being ignored.

“Steady and holding,” Christine assures him.

Not that he needs assurances. This might be an intimidating operation for all his colleagues but almost a walk in the park for him. By the time he’s done – some two hours from now – the guy on the table is going to be in tip top shape. Better than he’s ever been in, if Stephen’s got any say in it.

And he does.

It’s been surreal the first few weeks after the deal’s been made. Like a thing out of the many dreams he had following the accident – where he wakes up and everything is back to normal. Only he usually woke up for real and found the reality was still shit but this time, there was no rough awakening.

He woke up and everything was back to normal.

As if the accident never even happened, just like the stone said. It _did_ technically happen – because if it wouldn’t, he would have never become a sorcerer. Who knows what would have really happened if he didn’t crash his car that night.

No. If the stone actually erased that moment, it would be breaking time and space and the entirety of this dimension. It tried to explain what it did – but Stephen stopped it half-way through after he realized he’d probably need another doctorate, this time from quantum physics or something.

He doesn’t need to understand though. The result is what matters.

Without thinking twice about it, he applied back for his job and dived back into it hands first.

Wong was less than amused by his choice, but stopped complaining about a month ago. It’s not like Stephen’s neglecting any of his…extracurricular duties. Few months into his two full-time jobs, he found an agreeable balance between his time spent in the hospital and in the Sanctum.

Magic portals really do cut on the time otherwise spent in NYC’s trademark traffic jams. He doesn’t do clinic hours anymore and pretty much just sticks with the trickiest of surgical cases – thus only appearing in the hospital for emergencies and his scheduled operations.

The only colleague he would enjoy socializing with would still only be Christine, so there’s no point in actually staying there – physically – his whole shift. Christine, the only other living human aware of his _situation_, always pages him whenever he’s needed.

It’s perfect.

Despite the doubts and the warning and the price – the outcome of the deal is everything he could hope for. He couldn’t be happier. It must show a lot because Christine keeps giving him wide-eyed, surprised stares all the time and Wong is straight up weirded out by his constant upbeat mood as of late.

Can’t blame them – it’s a stark contrast to the gloomy state of mind he’s been in before. The only…sentient beings that take the change in strides are the Cloak and the Time stone. It must be some sentient ancient artifact thing, but the Cloak at least can’t talk.

**_Ah, haven’t heard this one in a while_**, the stone comments on Queen’s _Kind of Magic_ the second Stephen rolls his eyes at the likely culprit – Christine. **_Then again, we can go back and listen to it live. The 80’s as you call them have some…particular qualities. Admittedly._**

Stephen chuckles at that, not even bothering to address Christine’s questioning eyebrow. Magic is one thing…explaining a sentient stone under his protection that formed the universe…and that talks to him all the time…is another thing entirely.

Two hours later they wrap up and pour out of the theatre.

“Good job, Doctor Strange,” Christine awards him with one of those tiny smiles only ever reserved for him after particularly complicated surgeries.

“And you, Doctor Palmer,” he returns the sentiment with a beaming grin instead and walks with her through the busy hospital corridors towards the doctor’s lounge.

“Have I mentioned this new you is really starting to freak me out?” she chuckles, shaking her head.

He scoffs. “Are you implying the old me was not freaking you out?”

“I’m implying that the old you didn’t have a flying magical cape stuffed in his locker and wasn’t disappearing into magic circles all the time. And then there’s the smiling and the goatee…”

“What’s wrong with the goatee?” he frowns, genuinely offended.

She purses her lips, trying not smile. “Nothing. Just…makes you look like a magician,” she adds, failing to stifle the laugh this time.

“Ha ha ha. Very funny. You know what? I’ll find myself a pointy hat to complete the image, how about that? Pfffft, a magician! I’m the M - ”

“The Master of the Mystic arts, yes. Of course you are.”

Stephen stops their stride just a few feet short of their destination in order to squint at her. “I don’t remember _the old you_ being so cheeky with me.”

She shrugs, not losing the smile. “Seems like we both changed, then.”

“Right,” he gives her the squinty glare for a moment longer before turning away and entering the lounge. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with my goatee, though.”

“Makes you look like a magician, mate.”

“Wha -! Who are you again?” he stares at the doctor, who he _thinks_ is from pre-natal.

Christine outright laughs, walking past them to the fridge. “Now that’s more like the old you.”

“It doesn’t…it’s not…the goatee is just _fine_!” he argues even as the other doctor makes himself scarce. “Tony Stark’s been wearing one for decades and I haven’t heard a single person tell him it makes him look like a magician!”

“Because it doesn’t.”

“Excuse me?! Why not?”

“Because he’s Tony Stark. He was born to wear that goatee.”

“Oh really?! He was probably born _with_ the goatee already, wasn’t he?! Unbelievable,” he sighs, puts on a sling ring and reaches through a portal to the Sanctum to get himself tea.

“You doing _that_ is definitely not helping the image,” she snickers, watching him fumble with a kettle that is physically miles away.

“It’s not like I’m pulling rabbits out of hats!”

She raises her eyebrows, pointedly watching him pull the kettle through the portal and on the table here.

“Don’t! Even. Say it,” he stops her when she narrows her eyes at him and prepares to retort.

“Fine. Enjoy your tea,” she chuckles and takes her lunch to go.

He missed this. The job. The banter. Christine. Some things he still doesn’t miss – his fancy car, the penthouse apartment, the unending strain of invitations to various events.

The old him as Christine puts it wouldn’t miss out on an opportunity to wear an overpriced tux and go dazzle his competition at some gala. Now, he would rather cozy up in the Sanctum’s library with a book, tea and a plate of cookies.

Great – he’s not turning into a magician, he’s turning British.

That’s how most of his days go now – solve a magical crises, operate on someone, do some diagnoses and spend the night studying medical journals or ancient mystical texts in the Sanctum.

And he _loves_ it.

Weeks later, he does some paperwork, portals to Kamar-Taj for training and ends up doing the usual – cozies up in the comfy armchair in the Sanctum’s library and reads something about the metaphysicality of the multiverse. He’s suspecting Wong isn’t even recommending actual books about the Mystic arts to him anymore – just whatever conspiracy wastes of paper that come out in the bookstores.

It’s well into the ungodly hours of morning when his astral form is startled from the suspicious read by the pager.

He goes back into his soundly sleeping body in the bed and wills it awake to answer the beeping thing, while the Cloak curiously perks up from where it lays at his feet.

‘_Emergency._’

What else would it be at 4AM?

He changes his clothes into something a normal person would wear, portals to his empty, dark office and bursts through the doors into the fairly silent hallways leading to the ER. Maybe he should at least go through the front doors of the hospital sometimes…before the security personnel starts asking why he’s never seen entering or leaving the place.

Or how he’s able to appear within a minute of a page at any time of the day.

Christine rounds the corner on the other side of the long hallway, already expecting him to be in the hospital by now. It must really be an emergency if she decided to go ahead instead of just wait in the ER.

“Didn’t know you had the night shift today,” he meets her in the middle, accepting the stack of files she hands over.

“Male in his late 40s, severe internal bleeding and heavy spinal injury sustained after a two miles fall,” she starts, not bothering with pleasantries.

He can get in on with that program, sure - work mode activated. He fishes out the X-ray, looking up against the lights to get a preview of what’s waiting for him. Spinal injuries are a bitch, especially after that kind of a fall.

“Wait…what?!” he comes to an abrupt halt, frowning at Christine. “Did you just say _two miles_?!”

She just nods, opens the folder in his hands and wordlessly points at it as if that’s supposed to be some –

“Colonel James Rhodes?” he reads out loud and okay, maybe that’s one of the people capable of surviving a fall that would usually result in nothing but a body splat. “He ran out of fuel in that flying death can or what?”

“No, there was a fight and…sometimes I forget you don’t have a TV anymore. Or a phone. Or, you know…_newspapers_,” she grabs one off the nurse’s station, pointing at the front page.

‘_Dispute ends in a superhero conflict – Avengers are a three-man team now’_

“Is that a joke?!” he stares at the title.

“No. No it isn’t.” Ah oh. That’s her dead-serious tone of voice…one Stephen learnt to respect and listen to without questioning. “I don’t know the details but they fought each other and this headline can still change to a ‘two-man team’ if Colonel Rhodes doesn’t make it.”

“If what I’m looking at here was in fact taken on a living human being, then that’s a damn miracle already,” he gets back to studying the x-ray and continues their stride to the ER. “Who’s operating?”

“Dr. Winston.”

“How’s it going?”

“As well as you’d expect. She stabilized him for now and is taking care of all the internal bleeding…the nerve damage though…”

He doesn’t have to be a specialist in this area to know it’s bad. Yes – Colonel Rhodes is lucky to still be alive, but Stephen knows from personal experience that he might not consider it lucky when he wakes up paralyzed from the neck down and unable to ever do the job that he loves.

Maybe he can still do something about that, lessen the impact of the damage…but Dr. Winston will first have to save the man’s life.

They enter the observation room to see how the surgery is going only to interrupt a heated phone call.

“Just wait till I get my hands on them. No, no you stay with the kid. Where is Tony? He said he would be here, _this is his best friend_! Okay…I’ll call FRIDAY. I swear if he got into even _more_ trouble I will lock him out of the lab for a _year_!”

The fierce woman dressed up to the nines in a business outfit must be nobody but Pepper Potts herself. She notices them entering the room and sighs.

“I will call you later, Happy. Wrap everything up in Berlin and bring Vision and Peter home. Yes…I know. Bye,” she hangs up and turns to them with an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that. Any news, Doctor Palmer? And…?”

“Doctor Strange,” he quickly introduces himself with a nod.

“The neurosurgeon…does that mean he’s out of the danger zone now?”

“I’m afraid it’s too early to tell,” Christine takes over. “I took the liberty of calling Dr. Strange ahead of time so he can switch with Dr. Winston as soon as she’s finished.”

“Very good. Keep me informed…I still have to take care of the collateral. Please, excuse me,” she gives them court nod and leaves the room to continue the calls.

“That’s one mess I wouldn’t want to be in charge of cleaning up.”

“You and I both,” he agrees, stepping over to the glass to watch the surgery.

** *****

Two hours later, he starts suspecting Dr. Winston of being a fellow sorcerer because her work on the Colonel is nothing short of a magical miracle. Then again, medical tech made quite a leap in the year he’s been gone – courtesy of Stark Industries.

How fucking ironic for a company formerly invested in making weapons to now have a dedicated medical R&D department that donates their approved products to hospitals all around the world.

Some people would go into any lengths to erase their guilty conscience, that’s for sure. Stephen can sympathize with that…on really bad days.

Today is probably going to be one of those days.

He scrubs, fires up a random playlist and descends into the theatre to do some emergency repairs before letting the Colonel rest. Two or three revisits of his work once the man is stronger might just get him up on his feet eventually.

“Coffee?” Christine approaches him outside of the OR, coffee cup in hand.

“You’re a God-sent,” he runs his exhausted hands over his eyes, noting through his tired haze that the morning shift is already taking over at the nurse’s station. Must have taken longer than he thought.

“Hm. Wonder which God that would be,” she smiles, handing the cup over to him. “I’ll be off then. You should get some rest too,” she squints at him. “If I find you running around the corridors doped on caffeine in the afternoon, I will personally put you into a coma.”

“Fair enough,” he gulps and with a quick goodbye, he watches her disappear in the slowly crowding hallway.

He might be a powerful sorcerer but a pissed-off Christine is no joke…he should probably go catch a few z’s, but now that he has the emergency coffee, he can still go check up on his patients and maybe do some astral form researching later in the Sanctum.

He one-shots the espresso and heads back into the ICU section. The Colonel should be just about settled in and recovering. It’s still too early to say anything for sure, so his visit is rather pointless but he goes anyway. A quick once-over through the file confirms everything he already knows – that he can’t do anything but wait for the time being.

“Let me know if his condition changes in any way,” he instructs the new shift at the nurse’s station and is just about ready to leave when he spots the collapsed figure sitting in the waiting area. “Is that a patient?”

“No…I don’t think so,” the nurse shakes her head, eying the man with equal confusion. “If he is then he’s waiting in the wrong room.”

He restrains himself from rolling his eyes and just nods. The ER is just around the corner and the guy looks like he just walked out of a truck vs. smart car accident…with him driving the smart car without a seatbelt on. Just the giant gash on his head is a good sign of at least a medium level concussion and that’s just the damage Stephen can observe from this far away.

Which is disconcerting.

Letting his doctor mode take over, he makes a few long strides towards the couch and clears his throat. “Good morning, I’m Doctor Strange. Can I help you?” he asks but doesn’t get so much as a blink in reply. Instead, the man just continues to stare into his open, bruised and bloody palms, limply folded in his lap.

Is he dead?! Exactly what this hospital needs on its slate, a dead guy in the waiting room that nobody noticed soon enough. He opts for a more direct approach and reaches out to him. “Hello?”

The instantaneous reaction he gets the second his fingers brush against the man’s shoulder scares him out his mind. One moment the man’s just an unmoving heap on the couch and then he’s a scrambling, flailing mess of limbs trying to get away.

Away from _him_.

Good news is, the man is definitely not dead – yet. The _yet _being the bad news, because judging from the quiet hiss and the pained grimace that accompanies all that flurry of motions, the still bleeding head wound is probably just the tip of the iceberg. And then there’s the reaction itself…

Of all the hundreds of doctors in this place why is he the one dealing with a case that obviously needs someone with actual people skills? Anyone would do. Hell, even Wong could do better than him in this regard. But nope, instead the poor fucker is stuck with Stephen Zerobedsidemanners Strange.

He’s not good at handling shock…panic…PTSD…whatever category this falls into. He can’t even handle _himself_ in such a state let alone another human being. Maybe it’s not too late to call Christine back. She would probably send him into a coma with a clipboard just for cancelling her well-deserved nap time but something tells him she would do the same if he accidentally mishandled a patient.

Thank the Vishanti that woman is not a sorcerer…he would get trapped in empty portals every ten minutes.

He slowly takes a step back, raising his hands into the most non-threatening way he can come up with – not so easy after months of doing the exact opposite – and tries to catch the man’s elusive, frantically flickering gaze with his own steady one.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. Didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Doctor Strange,” he repeats, trying not to wince as he spots the colorful bruises and the slowly forming black eye. Someone sure did a number on this guy and it looks more like a fist than a truck. “Do you know where you are?”

It’s a simple yet very telling question. Head injuries are a bitch and if a person can’t answer the simplest of questions…that’s where things go from bad to worse.

The man’s wide eyes finally flicker up to meet his and they seem a lot more focused than Stephen anticipated. His defensive pose deflates a bit with another wince and he nods, not making any moves to get out of the corner he backed into though.

“Can you tell me your name?” he continues, not at all satisfied with the silent acknowledgment.

There’s a slightly out-of-place emotion crossing over his face, something akin to annoyance or maybe confusion before his expression falls back into carefully neutral.

Stephen waits a moment longer but gets no reply. Although it doesn’t seem like the man wouldn’t know the answer…more like he doesn’t want to answer. Or _can’t_. “Can you…talk?”

His gaze falters again and he lets out a clearly frustrated sigh…again, not exactly an answer at all. It doesn’t really matter.

“You don’t have to, it’s fine. Nodding yes or no will do…I’m not trying to be nosey but I do need to determine your current state of mind. And this is one way to do it.”

He shakes his head with a quiet scoff.

Stephen should have known this wouldn’t be an easy one. So much for his astral nap research.

“Look, that wound needs cleaning and probably stitches and I’m not sure if you realize but you’re bleeding all over the place from who knows where. Difficult to tell with all the _bloody clothes_ you’re wearing. So please…follow me and let me help you and do know I am not above throwing a syringe with a sedative at you if you refuse. Trust me, I have at least a dozen former patients-witnesses that will confirm I will stop at nothing to do what needs to be done so…shall we?” he gestures into one of the empty room behind him.

His tone is playful enough…but he _would_ do all that and more. Nobody is dying on his watch. Definitely not in the middle of a hospital for Vishanti’s sake! No matter how stubborn or in-shock the person is.

With another sigh, the man shuffles around Stephen and goes into the room as prompted. Stephen first thinks the slow pace is just his aired reluctance but he’s starting to fear it’s got more to do with all the hidden injuries rather than anything else.

He grabs the nearby trolley with the tools and lets the man sit down on the bed before approaching him. It would be much easier if he knew what happened and what he should expect but Mr. Silent is still not in a talkative mood. “I will clean the gash, is that okay?” he asks rather than risking a repeat of earlier event.

He nods so Stephen starts with the head wound, wearily eyeing his chest.

“Any other injuries I should know about?” A tiny nod. “Chest, ribs…abdomen?” Another nod. “Is that a yes to all of those?” A shrug. Fucking hell.

He cleans the gash without as much as a wince out of the man and quickly bandages it just to stop the bleeding for now. Whatever damage lies downward is probably more important than this concussion inducing scratch.

“Alright, lie down,” he instructs and surprisingly isn’t met with any protests, vocal or otherwise. “I’ll have to cut through these…hope the shirt wasn’t your favorite,” he tries some more to lighten up the mood but another shrug is all he gets. With the man’s suddenly absentminded look he’s beginning to worry about the actual extent of his awareness.

He lets himself be carefully maneuvered against the pillows into a somewhat comfortable position and for the second time Stephen considers calling for reinforcements. The feeling only intensifies after he makes a quick work of the sweater and T-shirt, revealing the carnage hiding underneath.

A plethora of bruises is lining his torso from the neck down but it’s the crescent-shaped _hole_ in his chest, covered by a lazy bandage, which drops Stephen into doctor mode faster than ever.

This sort of sheer focus is exactly what he needs to avoid letting his brain think too much and stray away from the job at hand. Distraction can be a dangerous thing…and he would be plenty distracted right now.

Years of experience however allow him to not dwell a second longer on the shock and the realization and instead he lets his hands work their magic – sans the magic.

It’s probably for the best. Otherwise his zero brain-to-mouth filter would already be spewing something highly inappropriate. Like…_what the actual fuck is going on_?!

First comes the near-death crippled body of Colonel Rhodes and now there’s a nearly-to-death beaten body of Tony fucking Stark lying in this hospital bed. He really needs to start paying more attention to the news again.

The disconcerting part is that he didn’t recognize him by looks – the usual impeccable goatee, sunglasses, fancy jackets, the hair. That’s all a combination of things that make Stark impossible to miss in any crowd.

Nope. For ten minutes straight he believed he’s dealing with some shell-shocked civilian that got mugged around the corner or something, until his eyes landed on his chest.

If the artificial sternum wasn’t a dead give-away already, the circular scarring where that glowing power…thingie used to sit would probably do the trick.

That’s one piece of fun-fact medical trivia he couldn’t get out of his head for years. As ingenious as the contraption must have been, given its original purpose, just the thought of how it got to fit in there and the impact it had to have on all sorts of bodily functions in the area was…terrifying. Even to his curious doctor brain.

Almost as terrifying as the realization that if it was still in there along with that assortment of shrapnels, he wouldn’t be treating a patient – but a corpse.

Whatever made that hole across his chest would have probably broken that thing beyond easy repair. This way it’s just the sternum that will need fixing…and the four broken ribs he’s counted so far. And the left hand fracture he’s spotted out of the corner of his eye…_and_ the bruises and scratches and_ blood_ that made Tony Stark completely unrecognizable at first look.

Stephen works in silence, taking a very uncharacteristic page out of Stark’s current book. He starts him on IV fluids and some definitely needed painkillers and tries patching up what he can without _thinking_ _too much_.

About how this idiot walks into a hospital to check up on his friend instead of _checking in himself_. Or what on Earth happened that the Avengers felt the need to beat the shit out of _each other_. 

So much for Earth’s mightiest heroes.

Not that he believes in heroes…or cares, really. But it was nice…or maybe naïve to think the Avengers could handle the physical threats while the sorcerers deal with the mystical ones. Clearly they couldn’t even handle themselves.

Which brings him to the most unsettling thought. This whole ordeal would have a completely different air about it if it was just another world-ending crisis of the week that caused it. Another bad guy going for world domination or destruction or whatever…people get hurt when that happens.

It’s a different story when he knows this damage wasn’t inflicted by any such a thing. No aliens, no power hungry villains…as far as he’s aware.

So unless some of the Avengers went all kinds of rogue, this was a friend on friend action. Then again, what kind of _friends_ would do _this_?!

He really needs to stop thinking. Before he drags himself into something more than he bargained for. Although…this is exactly what he _bargained_ for.

**_So much for you not thinking too much_**.

Stephen sighs, mentally stopping himself from berating Timey out loud and landing on Stark’s crazy doctors list. Not that he would notice at the state he’s in…_the fucking state he’s in_! Was he not wearing the armor? Do they call it…him…the Invincible Iron Man just because it has a nice ring to it? What. The. Hell?!

** _Still failing there, sorcerer. _ **

_Shut up_.

** _Your thinking is annoying. And loud. _ **

_I’m disturbed._

** _So am I._ **

_This! Is disturbing, this whole situation with the Avengers and…whatever. Thanks for the support. I’m so sorry my distress woke you up from your tiny little world! What was I expecting from a sentient stone anyway…_

** _I am not here for your entertainment ~_ **

_And you call **me** a child? Grow up…and please stop singing._

** _You don’t really wanna mess with me tonight.~_ **

“Pink’s You and Your Hand, 2006 I’m Not Dead album,” he mumbles, shaking his head at the stone’s antics.

“Hm?”

The hum is the closest sound to actual words Stark has made since he’s met him – an alarming fact on its own. The still more alarming is his barely focused gaze. Exhausted, concussed, hurt…add in the mental damage and the extra stress of having his friend just three doors down fighting for both his life and his ability to ever be able to walk again and it’s a serious mixture of _bad_.

And so totally out of his neurosurgeon league.

“Nothing…just trying to focus.”

Actually, it’s Timey trying to keep him focused. One speedy music challenge is one way to do that. He should probably stop being such a dick.

** _Yes, you should._ **

_It’s my coping mechanism, I can’t help it. _

** _Indeed not_ ** _._

“Anyway,” he tunes out the stone and looks at his handiwork. “No internal bleeding as far as I can tell but we should run tests to be sure…the ribs will need time to mend and the hand might need resetting into whatever cast you took off to heal properly. The chest is the biggest issue here…you will need surgery to repair the sternum and clean out any stray splintering that could cause damage inside. With the concussion it would be best to put it off a few days but some prep work can still be done. I can schedule it here or if you want to make your own arrangements that’s fine as well but for the time being I’m admitting you in,” he tells him, leaving no room for arguments but at the same time keeping his voice carefully void of his usual snarky, bothered…bordering on commanding tone. “Do you want me to call someone?”

Stark’s droopy eyes squint shut, the resulting wrinkles breaking up the lonely, dried up streak of blood across his forehead. He reaches into his pocket with the good hand and fumbles with the phone for a while before nudging it in Stephen’s general direction.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” he musters a gentle smile out of the deepest depths of the abyss that is his empathy and takes the phone.

_Pepper Potts_ and her picture is already selected on the screen.

“O…kay. Stay here and by here I mean lying in that bed. I will make the call and update the nurses.”

Stark doesn’t respond or acknowledge him in any way so he backs out of the room and takes a few hasty steps to the nurse’s station. He fills out some of the necessary admittance forms and a patient file while updating the nurse on the situation and then finds a quiet corner to make the call.

He’s not sure if it even rings before the yelling explodes in his ears.

“_Where are you, Tony?! What part of _**_come straight to medical _**_didn’t you understand?! I love you but I swear to God I’ll beat you to death with my shoes if you’re not dead already! I’m worried sick! FRIDAY is freaking out here and Happy is threatening to take over the jet and turn it around to go find you! Wh -_ ”

“Miss Potts?” he jumps in the first chance he gets.

“-_ ere are…uhm…hello_?” she breaks the frantic yell into a perfectly cold, suspicious tone.

“This is Doctor Strange…we met briefly at Metro General yesterday?”

She lets out a long, shuddering sigh. “_Of course…Doctor Strange. Please forgive my earlier…outburst I…please tell me you didn’t find that phone on a corpse_.”

Stark’s lack of care for his own health is apparently a thing if even his life-long partner immediately assumes the worst. “I didn’t. I’m making the call on Mr. Stark’s…request.”

“_Oh thank God…is…is he alright? Is he still there? I’m on my way_!”

“Room 0254,” he says, eyes pinned on the door of said room…just in case. “He is…alright for now. But not _alright_ by any possible sense of the word.”

“_Cancel the car, FRIDAY, I’m taking the quinjet. There’s no…I don’t care if there’s nowhere to land it – I’ll parachute to the roof if I have to_!” she speaks to someone over at her end…an assistant?

“We do have a helipad.”

“_You heard that? Nowhere to land, my a…I’ll be there in five minutes, Doctor Strange. Thank you_,” she ends on a polite note and hangs up.

He pulls the phone away, Ms. Potts’s picture smiling up at him all innocent and pretty…not a hint of the fierceness he’s witnessed yesterday and in the call just now.

What a woman…she and Christine would probably be best friends. _Take over the world together in a day_ and _beat everyone with clipboards and shoes_ kind of friends.

The thought sends a shiver down his spine.

*******

Pepper Potts is an unstoppable force of nature – on good days. Or so Stephen thinks when she arrives exactly five minutes later dressed to kill – and ready to kill if that subtle glint in her hardened gaze is any hint, high-heels at the ready. She briefly greets him, reads through his report and then spends all of ten minutes in the room Stark is staying at before emerging out of it a completely different kind of Pepper Potts.

The _bad_ days Pepper Potts. The _unstoppable force_ combined with _unstoppable Hulk-like rage_ Pepper Potts.

She walks right up to him with all that murder and torture flashing in her eyes and for the first time since battling an inter-dimensional demon, he feels like making a run for it.

“I will handle the admittance forms from our side, he’ll stay here for the operation you suggested and the recovery. I might call in our own medical team if that is alright? If not, point at whoever’s in charge here, I’ll _make_ it alright.”

No doubts about that. “I don’t think that will be an issue.”

“Good,” she deflates somewhat but the dangerous aura is probably there to stay for quite some time. “Where did you even find him?” she asks, voice growing softer.

“Right here,” he nods at the waiting area.

“Jesus…,” she shakes her head, closing her eyes.

“I suppose he wanted to come see the Colonel?”

She regards him with a momentarily weary gaze before nodding. “What else. Only he can turn up half dead at a hospital to _visit someone _instead of looking for help. Did he…did he say anything?”

“Using words? No.”

“_Jesus_!” she echoes her earlier curse and the worry multiplies on her face.

“It’s a…common response to shock.”

She scoffs, covering half her face with her palm. “Shock…I haven’t seen him in shock since…,” she trails off for a while. “Since he’s been flying a metal can and fighting aliens every other Thursday! And even before that his usual response would be the exact opposite of _silence_. He talks ten times as much and in ten times the speed when stressed or…what I’m trying to say is…”

“You don’t have to explain,” he saves her the trouble of coming up with whatever follows that sentence. “I assume that either way it is the result of whatever happened.” The result of whoever did that to him…and why. “Speaking of…?”

“I don’t know the full story yet…but FRIDAY did give me a highly alarming summary. It’s…FRIDAY is the AI in his armor,” she adds, seeing his raised eyebrows. “I hope you don’t mind if I don’t share any of the facts, unless it’s important medically?”

“Oh…no, it’s not. I mean, not necessarily it isn’t. The tests I scheduled should reveal anything I might have missed before so there’s no need to tell me anything. I understand.” Why _was_ he asking anyway?!

“Thank you. The media will have a field day with this…,” she mumbles.

“They already do,” he waves at the newspapers on the rack nearby, all of them with the words _Civil war_ on the front page.

“And they don’t know the half of it…what about Rhodey? I heard the surgery went well?”

Just when he thought he is the Supreme master of changing subjects, he’s clearly met his match. “As well as it possibly could. There weren’t any complications, Doctor Winston did an outstanding job if I do say so myself…and I don’t often say so myself.”

Her lips quirk up at that. “I see. So is he…”

“Out of danger? I would say so.”

“And you don’t say so often,” her tiny smile turns smirky.

“Indeed. He’s got past the hard part – he will live.”

“It’s the spinal injury that worries you though, isn’t it?”

“Occupational hazard, ma’am. Us neurosurgeons do tend to worry more about the nerves and the brain…I’m sure Dr. Winston will tell you she worries more about the rest.”

“Of course. How bad is it?” she jumps back to the point. Not much of a small talker…probably also an occupational hazard thing.

“I’m afraid only time can tell.”

**_Ugh…I_ can_ tell you if you want?_**

“I fixed what I could at the moment but will have to revisit the job once his condition is properly stabilized and prepared to take the strain of another lengthy operation.”

“Let’s hope for the best.”

Hope…Stephen is _so_ over that notion. He hoped for the best too after the accident and it didn’t turn out that great.

** _Did work out eventually, wouldn’t you say?_ **

_Still. Hope is useless. Besides, she doesn’t have to _hope_ for the best, I_ am_ the best. _

“I’m sure you had a long night – and day,” she sighs, straightening back into her danger posture. “I will go handle the paperwork…and everything else. Thank you, again. For taking care of him and calling me,” she says, her eyes fleeting toward Stark’s room.

“It’s my job,” he resists the urge to roll his eyes. Would every other doctor just go past a beaten half-unconscious man or what? Then again, who knows how long he actually sat in that waiting room without anyone noticing. Damn.

“Still, a thank you doesn’t go amiss. Especially to the doctor that still has our friend’s life in his hands.”

“Fair enough.”

“Doctor Strange,” she smiles and a second later she’s back in Terminator mode, walking across the hallway to the now sweating nurse.

With Stark in good hands, he can finally go and sleep for a bit.

** _I wouldn’t be too sure about that._ **

“What?” he mutters, trying to find a safe place to portal away but Wong beats him to it, rounding the corner.

“We need to go to Atlantis.” Wong is also not big on small talks.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he glares at his friend.

“They found some artifact hidden in a chest and _surprisingly_ it was hidden there for a reason. Let’s go before they sink the city for good this time.”

“Wait…you’re actually serious.”

“What?” Wong frowns.

“_Atlantis_?!”

“You’ve been to other dimensions and _Atlantis _is where you draw the line? Unbelievable,” he shakes his head and portals them to what is indeed Atlantis.

_So much for sleeping_.

** _Told you_ ** _._

_So much for stopping being a dick to you_.

** _I expected as much._ **


	3. Chapter 3

In the following weeks, Stephen steadily goes from annoyed to grumpy. Wong keeps dragging him away from the hospital every chance he gets, mostly to solve serious mystical crises but also to straight up fuck around with him.

So instead of enjoying some quiet and peace in the Sanctum’s library every now and then, he’s either doing surgeries, battling lesser demons or ghost-busting people’s haunted attics.

His formerly comfortable routine goes out the window…and if he’s got anything to say about it, Wong will go out the window soon as well. Hopefully with very thick glass and high up somewhere.

“Are you plotting my murder again?” Wong glares at him from the opposite couch.

“Is it getting obvious?”

“Your eye twitches a certain way.”

“Oh?”

“Anyway. Ice-cream?”

“Are you trying to buy your way out of getting murdered?” Stephen smirks at him, discarding the gigantic book about exorcisms they are researching.

“Who said I’ll be buying?” he deadpans

“If you want to live to see tomorrow, you _will_ be buying.”

Wong inhales and starts fishing through his pockets. “Well, I have…eight hundred forints.”

“Which is?”

“Not even four dollars.”

He shakes his head and gets up. “Fine. I’m buying. And you are doing the next ghost-busting on your own.”

“Deal.”

“Get a job, Wong.”

“I do have a job,” he argues, following him out of the Sanctum and down the road.

“A _paying_ job.”

“Where do you think I got eight hundred forints?”

“I don’t know…someone thought you were a homeless person and gave them to you in Hungary last week?”

Wong switches back to his default glare and looks away. “Yes.”

“Get a job, Wong,” he repeats, trying not to laugh.

“Not all of us can cheat our way to our dream job using one of the most powerful relics on the planet.”

**_One of the most powerful relics…? _One _of them? I am THE most powerful relic on this planet. _**

“Hm. And now you offended one of the most powerful relics on the planet. And sorry to break this to you, Timey, but the Mind stone is still around to compete for that title.”

** _As if it could. I can erase it out of existence if I so please._ **

“I highly doubt that.”

**_I can erase _you_ from existence to prove my point if you wish?_**

“I am not the Mind stone so what point would that be? Anyway, strawberry?” they stop by an ice-scream stall.

“What did I tell you about the one-sided conversations?” Wong berates him.

“That they make me look crazy and they unsettle you…which is exactly why I’m not stopping them any time soon.”

“I hate you.”

“I’m buying you ice-cream!”

“Are you trying to buy my friendship?”

“You’re assuming that’s a commodity I’d be interested in.”

“Careful, Strange. One of these days I might take your brittle deflecting seriously.”

“Good. I _am_ being serious. And I’m also buying you ice-scream,” he smirks and makes the order while Wong mutters something incoherent next to him.

***sighs***

_Stop doing that…it’s creepy. You don’t breathe so don’t sigh._

**Mimicking human mannerisms had been an eternal hobby of mine. Besides I thought it wise to give you subtle warnings, in case you ever complain I have done nothing to prevent you from dying an old, lonely man.**

_I don’t count on growing old and I’m not lonely._

**Times like to change, as you’re aware. One day you are a successful doctor and the next every bone in your hands is shattered to pieces. One day you have friends and the next you say something you shouldn’t have and –**

_Fine! Stop…doomsdaying me! For fu…never mind._

“Wow. Two scoops? What gives?” Wong eyes the offering suspiciously.

“_Now_ I’m trying to buy your friendship.”

“No sprinkles?”

“You – ugh. Can I have sprinkles on this one, please?” he turns back to the poor part-timer behind the stand, forcing a polite smile.

She looks between them with an awkward smile and nods, adding the sprinkles.

“There, you happy now?”

“Getting there,” he smirks and takes the treat, ignoring Stephen’s eye roll.

“Thank you,” he hands over the cash to the now beaming girl.

“Have a nice day,” she giggles, watching them go.

“Great. Now, can we please get back to the Sanctum without making anyone else think we’re complete lunatics?”

“She doesn’t think we’re crazy, she thinks we’re gay,” Wong casually replies, enjoying his ice-cream.

“Are you?”

“If I were, I definitely wouldn’t be gay for _you_.”

“Good! Neither would I!”

“Of course not. I’m not your type,” he adds, hiding his ever-growing smirk behind the ice-cream.

“Oh really! What does _your_ hermit ass know about _my_ type?!”

“Don’t bring my ass into this. I know plenty.”

“Do you now.”

“That’s what I do. I drink and I know things.”

Stephen closes his eyes, trying hard not to sacrifice his own ice-cream in order to smear it all over Wong’s face…like the grumpy three year-old he is. “You don’t drink, you asshole.”

“It’s a quote from…never mind. You don’t even watch the big Game and _I’m_ the hermit here? Ridiculous.”

“I’m not a sports fan.”

Wong stops to stare at him with a blank expression.

“What?”

“Ridiculous,” Wong shakes his head and storms ahead.

“What!” Stephen calls after him, bits of ice-cream flying all over the place as he flails his hands.

** _Sports fan…hahaha. _ **

“Are you laughing at me?!”

He’s spared any further embarrassment by Christine’s call to arms and portals to the hospital, ignoring the chuckling stone for the rest of the afternoon.

*******

After he’s done with the emergency brain surgery on a kid who’s barely a preschooler that got hit by a car just around the corner, he decides he’s about had enough of work and stress for the week. Or maybe even the month.

It _is_ what he wanted. He thrives like this. Always having something to do…no time left to dwell on stupid thoughts. Like how come he’s living in a world that has magic and superheroes in it but can still be a witness to kids and…people in general dying on the tables here because they got mugged or hit by a drunkard or…randomly shot on the side of the street.

They are able to defend themselves against alien and demonic invasions but still…the biggest threat to their every-day lives is sill _themselves_.

_You can’t save everyone._

The sentence rang true back when he became a doctor and it’s still true now even with all his extra powers.

“Doctor Strange?”

He looks up from the vending machine he’s been blankly staring into the past few minutes, watching a man make his wobbly steps to him with a pair of crutches to help.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

“Damn, doc. Getting a hold of you around here is harder than making dinner plans with the President. You’re like a ghost or something,” the man chuckles and stops his unsteady approach in front of him, carefully extending his right hand to him. “Colonel Rhodes…I guess you’d recognize me better by my insides considering how many times you had the pleasure fiddling with them lately.”

Stephen inhales, mentally slapping himself for not recognizing the man that he’s had under his hands almost ten times in the past three months. “Yes…your liver would give you away immediately. I…don’t recognize you so…vertical,” he blurts out, shaking the Colonel’s hand.

“Ah…yeah. That’s new. Still a work in progress, obviously,” he nods, looking down at his fragile stance.

“I’m…impressed.” And confused. Mostly confused. Because even with all the work he’s done, this shouldn’t be possible. Sure, there was potential for partial recovery over time and through extensive therapy – which was more than he hoped for with this kind of damage…but it would take years to get him standing _and_ walking like this. _Years_. “Shocked would be another word I’d use. I mean…I’ve worked some miracles before but I’m not the second coming of Jesus. I _think._”

He laughs, swaying a little on the spot. “That’s…that’s funny. I was told the chance of me ever being able to stand up was somewhere between zero to none so…as far as I’m concerned, you still worked out some miracle there, doc. The rest was handled by the next competitor for the second coming of Jesus gig. But I prefer to call him Tony, otherwise his ego would spread beyond the edge of the universe and we can’t have that.”

“I see…actually no, I still don’t follow.”

“Check this out,” Rhodes sways his head to the side, prompting him to come along. He sits down on one of the nearby waiting chairs with some difficulty and pulls up the suspiciously over-sized and loose trouser legs – revealing the culprit behind his miraculous walking ability.

“Braces…,” Stephen breathes out, not sure if he was asking or just saying that. He squats down to inspect the metal work, spectacularly crafted to fit and support the legs and lower torso in every way necessary. He’s never seen anything like it.

Then again, the closest he’s ever seen any Stark-made thing – made by the man himself – was back in 2012 when Iron Man flew past the hospital window with a space whale chasing him. The StarkPhones were okay…not that he would know, he was an iPhone guy, but his colleagues always gushed about each new series. And he’s aware of the jet and energy tech and the new medical equipment designs of course…but this is something else.

How does an engineering super genius go from producing weapons to _this_?!

** _Similarly to how neurosurgical prodigies go from performing surgeries to performing the Mystic arts._ **

_You might be onto something there._

** _Of course._ **

“It will still take a lot of time to be once again steady on my feet, but the therapist is positive about it…and about as shocked as you.”

“Well…it’s not every day you see _walking miracles_,” he mumbles, clearly remembering only one such case – and that one had everything to do with the Mystic arts. This was pure…science. “I would say this settles the competition for the second coming of Jesus. Stark really outdid himself here,” he whispers, still staring at the braces.

“Don’t let him take all the credit. Seriously, argue for at least eighty percent. Metal is his thing…but these wouldn’t be worth much if you and Doctor Winston didn’t take care of the fleshy bits.”

“Alright, eighty percent it is. I’ll be sure to argue my share when the time comes, Colonel,” he finally tears his eyes off of the wonder contraption and grins at the man.

** _And the time has come. _ **

_Just…don’t._

“Rhodey. If my friends can call me that then Doctor Eighty-percent Jesus can too.”

“It’s _Stephen_,” he rolls his eyes and stands up, accepting another quick hand shake.

“If you says so, Jesus.”

_Hello, banter_. “Stop that, or _my_ ego will reach the outer points of this universe,” he warns him with a smirk.

“It would be in good company by the looks of it.”

“Well aren’t you quick on your feet.”

“Not yet, but I’ll get there,” Rhodey fires back without a pause.

Stephen takes a breath but only ends up exhaling, shaking his head. “Wow. I must really be out of shape.”

“Thirty years with Tony Stark will exercise your wit to a point it reaches the Chuck Norris form…and even then it wouldn’t be enough to keep up with him.”

“I’d take my chances,” he follows up but notices the sudden fall in Rhodey’s expression.

Right. Difficult to score banter points with someone who barely says a word. He thought the silent phase would come to an end after some time but from the very few public appearances the man has made since leaving the hospital, it’s clearly there to stay.

“Yo, Mister Stank! I’m all ready to go,” Rhodey beams at someone behind Stephen.

_Speak of the devil…_

Looking over his shoulder, he recognizes the man standing at the corner as Stark. An easy task now that he doesn’t look like a walking corpse. There’s no visible sign of the bruises and the cast for his left arm is long gone – but healthy is not the word Stephen would use anyway.

Stark may have his usual fancy suit get-up, but even the colorful sunglasses can’t hide the darkening circles under his eyes or how the surely hand-tailored suit is now at least one size too big on him.

And then there’s the silence.

Stark’s response to his best friend’s greeting is just an exaggerated eye-roll and he makes no move to come any closer to them.

“Remember Doctor Strange?” Rhodey brings him into the one-sided conversation, climbing back up to his feet.

Stark gives him a fleeting once over, followed by a polite nod.

“Doctor Stark,” he replies in kind, earning a chuckle from the Colonel.

“I haven’t heard anyone call him that in decades.”

“Why? It’s an earned title, people _should_ be using it. They don’t call you _Mister_ Rhodes either,” he argues, remembering only too well how everyone – especially Christine – berated him about him and his formalities when it comes to this stuff.

It probably comes off arrogant or vain coming from him, but that’s not at all why he insists on the titles. With perhaps a few exceptions where he really wanted to annoy some people with it before, he mostly means it respectfully. It’s an acknowledgment of sorts and really just a simple sign of respect.

Stephen worked his ass off for years at schools to become a doctor, even more years after that to become a _good_ doctor and he still works his ass off to maintain and improve on that. The least anyone can do is acknowledge that with a simple damn title.

In Stark’s case it’s the same thing. Genius or not, he also had to put in his share of work into his doctorates, it’s not like he just printed them out from Google one day and called it done. He studied for them and then continued and still actively continues to contribute to his fields of science.

Stephen doesn’t care who’s next to call him an arrogant asshole – the man is a Doctor so he will call him that no matter how ridiculous it may sound to others.

“Yeah well, military tends to go all hard-ass on ranks,” Rhodey shrugs and wobbles around Stephen to join his friend. “Anyway. Thanks again – for piecing me back together. I owe you, and Doctor Winston too. Gimme few more days to rest my useless brain and I’ll come up with something. To properly thank you I mean.”

“Don’t worry about that, it’s all covered in that huge receipt you’ll get from the hospital by the end of the month,” he quips some more.

“Oh man, there goes my insurance,” he sighs dramatically. “Seriously though, I’ll figure something out.”

“Can’t speak for Doctor Winston, but seeing you up and about was more than enough thanks for me. I’m even willing to settle for just fifty percent of the credit there,” he dares to add in Stark’s direction.

Stark scoffs, lips twisting into a tiny smirk as he shakes his head.

“I told him to go for much more so don’t even,” Rhodey gently nudges Stark with his elbow, making the man repeat the mighty eye-roll.

“I should get back to work. It was good to see you, Colonel.”

“_Rhodey_.”

“Colonel Rhodey.”

“I will smack you around with a crutch, doc, don’t test me.”

“I _think_ I’d be able to outrun you and your crutch.”

“Bet you won’t be able to out_fly_ me, my crutch _and_ my suit of armor,” he fires back.

Huh. Would the Cloak be able to outfly the suit? He should do some test runs on that. “Fair enough, _Rhodey_. Doctor Stark,” he nods at him, noting his subtle stare observing Stephen throughout the exchange.

“Doctor.”

It’s merely above a whisper, hoarse and more than a little broken – but it’s an actual word as opposed to a hum or the admittedly very telling body language. And somehow just that one word speaks a lot more than an entire set of sentences would. It’s a thank you and a goodbye and for some reason also a _sorry_.

Sorry for _what_?!

He doesn’t have the time to read into it too much. The two of them move around the corner but if Rhodey’s momentary surprised expression is anything to go by, that one simple broken word was definitely not to be taken lightly.

*******

Finishing up some paperwork in his office, he portals back to the Sanctum and delves into more research. But he can’t. Not today, not after once again coming face to face with…what pretty much remains of the Avengers.

The aftermath of the so called Civil War didn’t escape Stephen, unlike its beginning and progress. He’s none the wiser when it comes to what sparked the conflict – the conspiracy theorists already have a field day with that of course.

The official statement given by the UN was simple – Captain America refused to sign the Accords and then refused to give up an internationally wanted criminal slash his buddy from the 40’s Bucky Barnes and followed by some of the other Avengers, they tried to fight their way through the situation.

The disturbing part that not many seem to understand is that Captain…Not-America-Anymore and his followers didn’t really fight the remaining Avengers who decided to support the Accords.

They fought the world. This was them against the world – or 113 countries of the world to be exact. Who does that?! And for what?

To save their buddy Barnes? Save him from what? The accusations against him were dropped the same day they leveled a Berlin airport with the ground because of the evidence the Avengers provided and whatever crimes he was an unwilling participant of during his HYDRA days were also dismissed just weeks later after a thorough report about the man’s brainwashing and torture reached the UN, where it was decided to shift the responsibility for these crimes to HYDRA – as well as it should.

One day and then few weeks – that’s how long it would take to sort that out without any fighting.

So what’s left? Rebelling against the idea of the Avengers no longer being an uncontrolled force with zero accountability? He read the Accords…and some parts could use a tweak, as any laws fresh out of the oven do, but he couldn’t find any particularly outrageous segments that would render the whole thing undesirable.

Some form of oversight is never a bad thing, especially when it comes to unnaturally overpowered individuals, some with the ability to _level an airport in ten minutes_.

The sorcerers might not have any government overseeing them but Kamar-Taj has very detailed rules of conduct and any sorcerer breeching these must face consequences. They are accountable for their actions no matter if the actions were taken with good intent.

They hurt someone while banishing a demon to another dimension? They are personally responsible for taking care of that someone. They accidentally smash someone’s car while battling evil pixies? They have to fix that car after being done with the pixies.

It’s part of the reason Kamar- Taj is not a publicly known institution, the existence of magic still an easily kept secret.

Because they clean up after themselves.

One way or the other, they sort their messes no matter how small or big and take responsibility for their conduct. One way or the other.

The Avengers’ idea of taking responsibility is twisted at best. The damages are always paid for – _by Stark Industries_. Extra help is always sent after high-level emergencies to assist police, clean-up crews, doctors. He still remembers his all-time longest shift ever, during and after the Battle of New York. He and all the doctors and nurses here would have probably died on their feet back then if _Stark Industries_ didn’t express-ship a fresh batch of qualified personnel from other cities and even states to take over for them.

So, that’s nice. Of SI to pay for everything and handle everything even though it has no official ties to the Avengers. Stark may be part of the Avengers, but who made him and his company the big wallet for them?

That’s just bizarre.

Sure – Stark’s got the money and he likely volunteers them to be used. Stephen understands that – he’s got the money, so he also volunteers them to buy groceries and stuff for the Sanctum. Which never stopped Wong from pitching in every now and then with his part-time jobs money. It never stopped Stephen either before he regained his full motor functions.

The Avengers…they aren’t necessarily known for…_working_. They do their superhero gig when needed – but just like the sorcerers, that’s not exactly a paying job. It’s a community service if anything. They all do it because that’s what they signed up for, saving the world and all that, while not expecting anything much in return.

An occasional _thanks_ is nice.

Outside of that, he could count on the fingers of one hand how many members of the team have actual jobs. It puts things into even a bigger perspective when he found some members of the team _never even had a job_. Ever.

Work isn’t only a way to earn money. No. Work builds character. Work teaches responsibility, instills routines and bumps up self-motivation. And depending on the line of work, it also sets professional boundaries and shows how to work in a team.

He probably shouldn’t be too surprised the Avengers…weren’t that much of a team to begin with.

Stark pays for everything, probably invents and maintains all their super-tech gear, takes charge of damage control and since SHIELD was disbanded, he also takes care of the press and the oh so many media storms since Ultron.

Wanda Maximoff mind-controls the Hulk and makes him rampage through a city full of civilians? She becomes an Avenger a week later and somehow Stark is the one delivering all the apologies.

She blows up a building due to her less than sufficient control of her magic? It’s not like she _wanted_ to kill hundreds of people, she in fact _saved _thousands by protecting them from the initial blast – but somehow it was Stark doing the press conference _again_. And he wasn’t even anywhere near the damn fight!

She is young and maybe camera shy or whatever but surely she could come up with a simple heartfelt apology to at least show the public some remorse – unless she’s a fucking psychopath.

That woman is on his list now, for sure. Magic is their job after all. Kamar-Taj could teach the likes of her a lot and if not, their rules of conduct is straight-forward. Learn to use your powers responsibly and be accountable for your actions…or don’t have any powers.

Solved.

“We’ve got enough of our own problems as is, don’t meddle in the Avengers stuff on top of it,” Wong comments on it when Stephen shares his concern over breakfast.

“Difficult to do when _they_ are one of our newest problems. Maximoff is, to be specific.”

“Can’t argue with that. Any magical user living on this planet should be answering to Kamar-Taj, no matter what is the source of their powers. If she gained her abilities from the Mind stone as your Time pal suggested then we should have been keeping an eye on her from the beginning. That kind of power could be devastating in the hands of the wrong person.”

No need to tell him that. Stephen witnessed just a fraction of the Time stone’s power and it’s already been enough to fight an immortal demon and get his hands back. If anyone were to wield the stone with evil intent, they could cause damage on a scale that could go even beyond their own dimension, let alone planet.

Vishanti forbid anyone ever got their hands on more than one of these stones with the intention to use them to cause trouble. It’s not easy to use the stones as they are, without any relic to channel their power through. The Eye of Agamotto, Loki’s scepter, the Tesseract…these can channel the stones individually. But there are relics capable of channeling more than just one stone.

Thankfully not _all _the stones, but even two combined would amount to insane raw power.

** _You have no idea, sorcerer._ **

_I have **some** idea. _

** _Still, you cannot comprehend just how powerful anyone would be with all of us combined as one. The possibilities would be limitless. _ **

_I can comprehend limitless, thank you very much. Limitless is scary. So let’s not even talk about it._

“In other words, you are telling me not to meddle in Avengers stuff, but _I should also meddle in Avengers stuff_,” Stephen glares at Wong.

“Maximoff is one thing. You sounded like you were about to ban every single Roguevenger from ever setting foot on this continent.”

“And what of it? They are internationally wanted criminals now.”

“So was the entirety of Al Qaeda and we were not warding them off the Americas.”

“Last time I checked, Al Qaeda wasn’t comprised of superpowered, Infinity stone-enhanced individuals,” Stephen rolls his eyes and steals another croissant.

“True. Unless the threat is at least partially of mystical nature, we should not interfere though. You know that,” he points out.

Wong’s right. Part of their conduct is to make sure they do not interfere with the comings and goings of the world when not directly threatened by a mystical threat of any kind.

What a load of bullshit that rule is.

“Hm. Is that why the Master of the New York Sanctum was…what? Doing his manicure when an alien army invaded the Earth? What is the point of protecting reality and this planet from mystical threats if we just sit back and watch aliens kill everyone and destroy the planet?”

“The Avengers handled that situation.”

“What if they didn’t? Because that’s not my point.”

“I know it’s not. I’m just trying to evade the answer,” Wong admits. Even he knows some of the rules are crap when applied to practice.

They don’t agree with their own internal _Accords_ either – and somehow there is still not any mass magical civil war going on because of it. If any sorcerer breaks the rules, they have their chance to defend the decision to the Sorcerer Supreme and no Sorcerer Supreme in their right mind would punish them for trying to save lives.

It does boggle Stephen’s mind though…why there was no call for arms back then. Why didn’t they assist the Avengers _at all_. The Ancient One protected the Sanctum – but who was protecting the millions of civilians?

The Avengers alone.

Maybe he shouldn’t judge the Rogues too harshly. They sure messed up this time, but that doesn’t erase all the good they’ve done before and the Battle of New York was one of those deeds for certain.

The inactivity of their magical order shouldn’t surprise Stephen. It fits their modus operandi – to an extent. They weren’t part of any wars, not even the Great war, they don’t interfere with natural disasters, not even with pandemics – they let the world spin as it is with little care about dictators or the plague.

_“It’s for humans to battle and defeat on their own – we interfere where humans cannot_. _When they cannot_.”

Stephen wanted to argue with the Ancient One about that – but he’s come to understand her point of view over time. It answers his pesky question too – if the Avengers didn’t rise to the occasion, the sorcerers eventually would.

His inner-doctor screams at that philosophy. Surely if you have the power to help, then you don’t think about it – you help. Not eventually – _immediately_. It’s the doctors’ way. And the Ancient One never failed to comment on how his approach to the Mystic arts is strongly affected by his at that time former profession.

The doctor in him is outraged by the rule. The sorcerer in him understands.

Stephen doesn’t know what was Wong doing before he came to Kamar-Taj – not for the lack of asking – and if that somehow affects his view on this matter. The other sorcerer is the same way though – he understands, but he doesn’t necessarily agree. He warns him about meddling in Avengers affairs – but if Stephen starts meddling in their affairs, Wong will be right there with him.

When it comes down to it – and one day it likely will – he would like to believe he will do the right thing. Which will always be to follow the doctor’s instincts in him. He’s confident enough to argue his point of view to the other sorcerers and the eventual new Sorcerer Supreme. Whenever they finally decide to appoint one.

Good thing their temporary anarchy is also no cause for a _magical civil war_. It might be problematic when the next big crisis hits them though.

“I’ll be off now…got two major surgeries planned for today so if you could please make any suddenly appearing emergency reschedule itself for tomorrow, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

“I’ll try to persuade it myself…since you’re asking so nicely.”

“I always ask nicely,” he squints at Wong and grabs the last remaining croissant to-go. Might as well stress-eat in advance.

“Your usual sentence is: ‘don’t fucking bother me today’ or ‘tell the demons to fuck off’ so…I wouldn’t go for _always_.”

“Fair enough,” he smirks and portals to the hospital.

*******

The second surgery of the day goes all kinds of wrong so he’s stuck in the OR for hours trying to keep the guy’s brain functioning – along with the rest of his organs, preferably. It works out at first – they send the guy back to the ICU, his previously bleak chances improving drastically after the surgery, but as Timey loves to remind him ever so often – nothing lasts.

Everything can change in a split of a second.

So one minute the guy is stabilized and resting and the next he’s code blue for no apparent reason. Stephen spends another hour trying to figure out why and fix it.

Some things can’t be fixed. He can’t save everyone. The two sentences that doctors know only too well.

Doctor Winston comes in to assist him with the multiple organ failure but even their combined prowess is not enough to save the man. First a random stray clot causes a rupture in his brain and it sets a chain reaction of problems neither of them can solve at that point.

He dies in their hands – in every sense of the phrase; one hand on his failing heart and another three trying to battle the onslaught of problems all around.

Winston calls the TOD and that’s it. Another battle lost.

There’s this eerie silence after each such operation. Every time a life slips from between their fingers, what is there to be said anyway? Every doctor and nurse in the wake of the event get stuck in their heads for hours, days even; wondering what they could have done differently. What if this and what if that and maybe this and maybe that.

He didn’t miss this part of the job.

Bundling the bloody gloves and clothes into the bin. Staring into the sink, watching the water swirl around during clean-up. Stunned. Silent. Somber. And then emerging from the OR to meet whoever is waiting for the news – father, mother, wife, husband, children, friends, colleagues…all of the above and sometimes none of the above.

He still doesn’t know what’s worse – having to tell all those people that their loved one is dead. Or tell no one. Because no one is there. No one cares. Or there’s just no one left to care, all gone themselves.

Stephen delivers the grim news to the devastated wife and tries his best to talk her through the onset of shock. Winston – Vishanti bless her – takes over for him afterwards, either knowing his bedside manner didn’t improve after his miraculous return or just doing him the courtesy of sharing the load.

Either way, Stephen appreciates the gesture enough to mentally note to not be an asshole to her. Or at least buy her a coffee every now and then – since him not being an asshole is a fickle thing.

Christine – being the most socially functioning human he’s ever met – beats them both to it when they return to the staff room and brings a gigantic latte to Winston and the blackest, strongest, one-shot insta-reviving espresso the machine can spew out for Stephen.

It saves him from unceremoniously collapsing onto the nearest couch and falling into a coma – if only for an hour or two. He delves into paperwork to escape the dull ache the loss of a patient always leaves behind and then goes over the next day’s schedule and patient files to make sure he’s covered everything for the upcoming surgeries.

Everything he can predict anyway. All the power…and he still can’t save everyone.

Even if he was willing to start using magic in the middle of a surgery and in front of likely-to-be startled nurses and other doctors, magic can also only do so much. A few cuts and bruises, fractures and tears...magic can mend the basics, the simple stuff. But just like a sorcerer wouldn’t be able to wave plague away with one simple spell, he wouldn’t be able to magic away multiple organ failures and internal bleedings in any combination of spells he knows exist.

He could use the Time stone – only he can’t. Balance has a terrifying logic after all. He gladly paid his price…a love for a love. But a life for a life is something that shouldn’t even be considered.

** _If you think so._ **

“You’re all kinds of messed up, aren’t you?” he whispers into the silence of his office.

** _Who are you the decide the value of one’s life?_ **

“Exactly. How could I ever decide who’s life is more important and save and sacrifice a life based on that?!”

** _You cannot – however much I could argue that many mortals wouldn’t hesitate to use such power. You value life…in a way only someone like you can. A doctor._ **

He frowns, sitting back in the chair with a sigh. “Why thank you, for not thinking I’m an evil psychopath on top of being a regular brand of asshole.”

** _I did not speak of you when I asked though. You might not decide – but others would gladly decide._ **

“Yes, as you said…many mortals woul - ”

**_Not that way, sorcerer! Not to _exploit_ the power. _**

“How do you _not_ exploit that kind of power?!”

** _By sacrificing self to save another._ **

Stephen’s gotten used to being stunned into silence by the stone’s wisecracks…but this is oddly serious. And disturbingly true.

**_It is a grim choice that many would make. No matter the consequence. No matter what comes next. That woman now silently sobbing in the morgue’s corridor, mourning her dead husband wouldn’t think twice about it. The father sitting by his dying daughter’s bedside two floors up wouldn’t even let you finish your sentence before accepting. And you, sorcerer. You would have died a thousand deaths to save all of life. You _did_ die a thousand deaths._**

“I didn’t…really,” he mumbles.

** _My my, sorcerer. You might have not stayed dead. But you did die. More times than I recall anyone ever dying. Since I am as old as time, that is quite the impressive feat I must say. You see, for some this decision comes easy. The finality of self-sacrifice often less scary than the thought of a future without whoever they would save. Go on, roll your eyes._ **

He’s already mid-roll when Timey says that so he glares down at his chest, where the Eye is safely hidden underneath his robes – that are safely hidden underneath a spell.

** _Do not forget I know you better than you know yourself, sorcerer. I have seen your past and I have seen your futures, all the infinite number of them. Go on. Roll your eyes as I tell you that beings all across the universe would sacrifice everything they have, their life and anything else they could – for all manner of things, such as love. Roll your eyes and know that you are one of them. _ **

“Nonsense.”

** _You have already sacrificed for love. Or have you forgotten? _ **

“That’s different. It’s…”

** _Make all the excuses you want. Sacrifice, love…these are just words. And your funny human brain doesn’t seem to comprehend the many meanings behind them. One day, sorcerer, you will understand the extent of your ignorance._ **

“Ugh…you’re getting more cryptic by the second. I’m going to sleep.”

** _No, you are not._ **

“Reeeally? Why is that?”

** _You have an appointment. With destiny._ **

“Your cryptic level just increased a couple lev – oh,” he pauses mid-sentence, feeling the sudden ripple of magic warning him of an intruder within the city.

** _Off you go, sorcerer._ **

*******

Of all the days it just had to be this one. When things go to shit, they do tend to snowball though so it doesn’t surprise him.

After he grabs the Cloak and portals to where he tracks the disturbing mystical energy to, he finds not one but two different demonic portals spewing out nasty looking critters all over the abandoned factory complex. That’s what happens when teenagers get their hands on suspiciously accurate satanic ritual manuals and actually manage to pull it off, too.

He portals the panicking half-drunk, half-blazed out of their mind teens away and summoning all the strength he’s got left, he starts closing one of the portals.

It’s not too difficult of a spell – if it were just one portal. With two portals and little to medium sized demons all too happy attacking him constantly, he just can’t get it done. If he focuses on the banishing spell, they will overwhelm him – if he focuses on fighting them, the portals will keep letting more of them in and he might as well keep on fighting them forever.

Wong has to protect the Sanctum but he surely felt the spike through the wards as well. With any luck, he will send some reinforcements his way. And soon.

Tiny demons turn big and bigger still in matter of minutes and the exhaustion slowly creeps up on him as he keeps blasting them away with a varying assortment of complex spells.

_You wanna help me or is this meeting with destiny supposed to be me dying to a horde of demons?_

Before Timey could answer, one of the particularly large ones that make it through makes a swing at Stephen that he hastily dodges but loses his footing.

Perfect. He’s going to die fallen on his ass and eaten alive by itsy bitsy demons. What a destiny.

The tiny horde makes a jump at his crumpled form but before a single one of them can land, they are cocooned in a silky-looking white mass and swung back at the big demon with enough force to send him flying across the former production line space.

“Holy shit! Are those actual portals to hell or something? Are these mini-satans? And were you just fighting them with magic or did I hit my head on the way here?”

Stephen is barely in a sitting position when a red and blue-clad…kid? Swings down from the beam above and hurls the questions in the process. What is this now, superhero kindergarten?! He sounds like he’s twelve!

“Oh hey, and this thing’s moving and all. That’s cool,” the…itsy bitsy…spider? Kid? Says when the Cloak sends him a dangerous flare as he approaches. Without a care in the world, the kid hauls Stephen up and sure. Itsy bitsy maybe but he _did_ just throw an entire horde of demons across the room – singlehandedly. “Hi! I’m Peter! Uh…wait. No no no no no I’m not supposed to say that…I mean…uhm…,” he blurts out, flailing his hands around.

Stephen takes a look at the two portals – both of which have actual spider webbing in front of them, somehow strong enough to make the arriving demons struggle to get through – and the rest of the pesky critters are all bundled in the web cocoons, the big guy still trapped underneath one of them.

What. The. Actual. Fuck?!

“Doctor Strange,” he nods at the flailing spiderkid and is trying hard to wipe off the stunned expression he’s probably sporting.

“Oh good, we _are_ going for made-up names. It’s Spider-man then!” the kid reboots and is back to upbeat in a second.

Stephen blinks at him and finally snaps back to working mode as well, narrowing his eyes at the teen. “Wh…this is _not_ my made-up name, I’m a_ -_ ”

“Whoa! You’re an actual doctor? Like…a witch doctor or something? Awesome! Anyway, what about the portals to hell? This is like a block away from where I live, I can’t le…wait, I wasn’t supposed to say that either. Crap! I mean - ”

“Kid! Just…_stop_! For _one second_,” he tries to calm the clearly all too energetic teen with even less brain-to-mouth filter than he has. And some clearly unnatural superpowers on top of that. Now that he thinks about it…he can work with that. “Tell you what, keep the demons occupied and I will close the portals.”

“Yeah! Sounds like a plan. You’ve got it, Doctor Wizard!” he instantly switches to loud and upbeat again which makes Stephen’s head spin.

Teenagers.

Without any further prompting, the spiderkid kicks back into action and has nearly zero problems tackling whatever demon manages to make a run at them, giving Stephen all the time he needs to close the portals one at a time.

He dispatches any remaining demons after that and all but crumbles back to the floor with a heavy sigh.

“That was…AWESOME!” the kid…Peter…exclaims, swinging back to him.

“Well…and this wasn’t even my final form,” Stephen quips between heaving breaths.

“Hah! That’s a…cartoon…thing…_hah_!” Peter chuckles, his hands doing all sorts of gestures that Stephen’s brain is no longer capable of following. “Not bad, for an old wizard.”

“Excuse me? And how old are _you_? Ten?”

“Whaaa?! No! I’m not…I’m an adult. A man. Spider-man,” he stutters.

“Right. In that case, I’m twenty-five and I dare you to argue with it, kid.”

“I’m not a kid! I’m a m…never mind,” he sighs and pulls off his mask, revealing his all too young face, currently staring down at him with the most effective puppy-dog eyes and a pout he’s witnessed in a long time. “Just…don’t tell anyone? Or I’m grounded. Like. Forever kind of grounded.”

“Not my secret to tell. Now…,” he somehow scrambles back on his feet, the Cloak dusting his clothes off. “Thank you for your…spider assistance. You helped save your neighborhood from being overrun by demons from another dimension – that being said, next time, don’t go fighting demons from another dimensions. That’s our job.”

“Wow. Like…wizard jobs? Is that what you do? Do you have like…a team or…a school for that? Holy shit! Is Hogwarts real?!”

“Uhr…no,” he murmurs and puts on the sling ring.

“And muggles? And Voldemort? Do we get letters to attend or…can I just apply? I can totally help with the next magical crisis, Doctor Wizard! Protecting this neighborhood is kinda my job too, you know! OH WOW! Is that a portal?! Like teleporting portal?! It _is_! That’s am…you leaving already? Oh…okay! IT WAS NICE TO MEET YOU DOCTOR WIZ - ” the teen yells after his retreating form until he closes the portal behind him, collapsing onto his bed in the Sanctum.

_Teenagers_.

“Did someone try summoning Cthulhu again or was it just normal demons?” Wong portals there immediately.

“Cthulhu?!” Stephen groans, placing his arms over his face as if he could hide behind them from the world. Or just Wong.

“I’m joking. Maybe,” his savage friend adds. “All good?”

“No thanks to you.”

“I sent Master Gunther to help!”

“Well, he sure didn’t show up. But yeah, all good. We should probably check Queens for radioactive water pipes or something though…the kids there…are all kinds of…,” he trails off and falls asleep right there and then.


	4. Chapter 4

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to…but it’ll be fun! I promise!”

Rhodey should be banned from using this atrocious pleading voice. It’s second to only Peter’s puppy dog eyes and that’s saying something.

Tony cannot resist either of those.

“I can see you crackin’ in there, c’mon. You wanna come party with us all night long. It’s for a good cause! We’re celebrating this walking miracle!” he gestures all over himself in such an obnoxious way it makes Tony scoff.

“You don’t have to persuade me, I’m all in,” Pepper instantly supports the idea – _traitor_. “And so is Peter.” Traitors, all of them. “He already emailed in the signed parental waver confirming he can stay for this…internship overnight project.”

And isn’t that just amazing. The kid’s not even sixteen yet and he’s already faking fake-official documents to attend parties.

“Don’t worry, we have plenty of non-alcoholic beverages and all the fun stuff is PG-13…I _think_,” Rhodey smirks. “I’ll cancel the strippers. And the skinny dipping midnight pool event.”

“So much for _fun_,” Happy mumbles.

“Oh there will still be plenty of fun…especially after one or two trips to the giant spinning bar I’ve got in mind. It will spin once, twice and then the only thing spinning will be our heads. Perfect!”

“The doctors will be left praying they aren’t called in the next morning, that’s for sure,” Happy shakes his head at Rhodey’s excited event-planning.

“The doctors need to chill every once in a while too! And so do you,” Rhodey stares at him with his non-negotiable expression.

He rolls his eyes and nods. “Fine.”

“Yesss, full attendance people, we’ve got full fucking attendance! Mr. Stank doesn’t know it yet, but the dress code will be casual so anyone wearing anything that looks like a suite or a tux will be stripped naked to conform this rule!”

Tony groans and instantly regrets agreeing to this madness. He could use the distraction though…and it’s not like he could say no to celebrating his best friend’s successful surgeries and therapy.

It’s not like he says much anyway.

Why bother? He was speaking nonstop for his whole life – and nobody was listening to him. They heard – but they didn’t listen. So why should he waste any more words than absolutely necessary?

Now that he’s mastered one-word sentences and uses even those as scarcely as he can, everyone is suddenly on high alert, eating up every letter that comes out of his mouth.

Fucking ironic.

What is there to be said either way? All the words had been wiped away from him in one single moment in the freezing chill of a Siberian bunker.

Words…such a useless concept.

Everything that happened there that day could have been avoided – if _someone_ knew how using words worked. In the end, silence is much easier. No wonder Rogers opted for it. Words are complicated and when they should be forming the truth, they so often prefer to form the lie, leaving the truth rest in silence instead.

That’s how bad shit happens. Outspoken lies and silent truths.

He’ll just settle for silent…everything. It freaked them out at first…Pepper, Happy, then Rhodey. Peter and his annoying enhanced spider radar picked up on it immediately – being the progressive and ever adaptive modern teen that he is, he settled for texting. And holy crap does he text a _lot_.

Tony found he doesn’t mind and texts back in actual, full sentences. It’s their silent deal of sorts, a truce. Peter’s killer pout and pleading eyes have nothing to do with it _of course_.

These three, currently roping him into this ridiculous celebratory party while trying to subtly feed him an entire pepperoni pizza – their idea of subtle is very funny – they know him well enough to settle for the silent replies.

An eyebrow here, an eye-roll there…they read him like a book. Pepper doesn’t even have to look at him sometimes and she just knows. Rhodey has no problem talking for the both of them and Happy was always a master of speaking with his facial muscles alone, so they just communicate with looks now.

Which freaks everyone the fuck out and entertains the two of them to no end.

Vision somehow got in on the program – likely thanks to whatever left-over knowledge he’s got from JARVIS…bless the android, although he’s definitely and deliberately pushing Tony’s buttons with his constant phasing through all sorts of walls and floors. One of these days, he might actually succeed and raise an entire, scolding sentence out of him.

The rest of the world…well, fuck the rest of the world.

He’s done caring what they think about his next to zero appearances in public, no speeches and overall silent presence. Ross all but screamed his lungs out on their last meeting, which only encouraged Tony to not speak a single word to him ever. He even annoyed Fury enough to make him snap a few times before clearly deciding to roll with it. Tony’s not giving them many other options so yeah.

Let them sweat it for once.

“You want me to pick up the kid?” Happy asks him. “For the party tomorrow?” he adds, noting Tony’s absent expression.

Tony nods, glaring at the slice of pizza Pepper discreetly drops onto his empty plate.

“Should I look for some casual clothing while I’m at it? Unless you’re planning to go commando.”

Never mind the pizza, he will glare at Happy for the rest of the day.

“You think you’ve got casual? Alright, fine. But if Rhodey’s fashion police decides you’re still too formal, don’t expect me to explain your state of undress to all the fancy doctors.”

“They’re doctors,” Rhodey shrugs. “I mean…they’ve seen _me_ naked so, one more dude is probably not going to shock them.”

“The kid then.”

“Oh. Yeah. That you don’t want to explain.”

“Alright that’s enough you two,” Pepper send them a warning look, pinning it on Tony and his yet to be eaten pizza slice.

Yep. _Subtle_.

He reluctantly takes a bite and hopes the party will have the promised effect tomorrow. Otherwise he’ll just have to spend the night internally panicking over the Accords meeting on Monday and that wouldn’t do.

Amending the damn thing is the easy part. Figuring out how to fit the Roguevengers as everyone calls them into the new picture is…not even the hard part. It’s the _nope_ part. The _fuck no he doesn’t want to deal with this shit anymore_ part.

Maybe he oughta do something about that later.

*******

** **

*******

“Mister Stark!” Peter zeroes in on him the second the elevator lets him through, shooting him a beaming smile and emitting enough teen energy to level a city with.

The party is somewhat in effect, although there’s literally nobody in the room. Rhodey gathered his invited medical personnel at the entrance and is giving them the VIP Stark Tower tour with Pepper, so Peter and one very tired looking Happy are the first ones to enter the party floor.

Finally. It was getting awkward with just the two baristas at the indeed spinning bar and the so far only drinking pianist.

“Peter,” he tries returning the smile but can’t quite bring himself to do it quite yet.

The kid seems happy with just the small one he manages and all but runs up to him. “Wow! You look…”

“Don’t say it,” Happy warns him from behind.

“Almost…normal,” Peter blurts out, clearly opting out of whatever he wanted to say previously. “Is your shirt saying…_meme daddy_?” he stares at Tony’s chest with a slightly stunned smile.

“He wanted to wear one with some stupid math joke nobody would understand but I talked him out of it.”

Second consecutive day of glaring at Happy, here they go. And it wasn’t stupid, a four-grader can understand that joke.

“OH! Was it the one I gave you?! With the pi joke? What do you mean nobody would understand that one!” Peter whirls around to also glare at Happy when Tony confirms his suspicion.

“_’My password is the last eight digits of pi_’? Very funny.”

“Wh…isn’t it? There’s…nobody knows the last - ”

“I _know_. Still doesn’t make it funny,” Happy argues.

“**_What do you mean it’s still not f_** \- ” Peter all but erupts, but stops when Tony places a hand on his shoulder and shakes his head.

No need to be bothered by Happy’s lack of exquisite humor. They understand it and that’s what matters.

“Yeah, whatever,” Peter sends Happy an angry pout, reading into Tony’s unfazed reaction. “Where is everyone? I got Colonel Rhodey a shirt too as a got-well present. It’s like a get-well one but…for afterwards!”

Definitely precious. And plotting some serious shirt vengeance.

“_The party is on their way up_,” FRIDAY announces and it seems as enough of a prompt for the pianist to finally stop drinking and get his Beethoven on.

“Good. Get us a double whiskey and whatever fruity sugary cocktail bomb this one wants,” Happy orders at the bar and the barista swings to action.

“S-WEET!” Peter cheers and joins him there to browse the extensive virgin cocktail selection.

“Looks delicious.”

_One of these days_…Tony will suit up just by a mere reflex and blast Vision off to space.

“I’ll have one of those, too,” he nods at the dangerous looking potion the barista is making for Peter and floats around Tony, battling the intensified glare with a smile.

A minute later, Rhodey leads in the _party_ in there and for some reason Tony believed him when he said he’ll invite just the surgeons, the nurses and the rehab staff. This looks more like half of the hospital worth of employees. But it’s his party, so it’s his guest list.

Tony avoids the crowd, sticking to Happy on the edges of the room, sipping on the whiskey and silently observing the gathering. He exchanges a polite – though one-sided – conversation with Doctor Winston and greets a few more guests bold enough to approach him, but otherwise keeps to himself and his small circle of his friends and family.

The only he’s got. The only he’ll ever have.**  
**

** **

*******

Two hours into the event, Rhodey is entertaining half of the room with his many humorous…and many not so humorous stories slash jokes, while trying not to sway too much on his feet. Thankfully, it’s 90% the alcohol and only 10% the injury.

Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves, nobody bats an eye at Peter’s presence and nobody seems unsettled by Tony’s zero presence at the party. He’s there, just far away from the center of attention he would have usually been in the past. Rhodey always enjoyed the spotlight more than him, so he’s more than happy to leave him to it.

Speaking of people avoiding the spotlight, there’s one particular late-comer that apparently excels at circling the party from the shadows of the edges more that Tony.

Doctor Strange.

The most fitting name he’s ever heard. Because he’s for sure the strangest doctor he’s ever met or heard of.

He arrives late, goes straight to Rhodey, they chat for a bit, then he grabs a brandy at the bar and orbits the room like the lone Moon orbits Earth. Small talks anyone that approaches him, indulges Pepper in a handshake and a short conversation and then drifts off into the outskirts again.

So completely different from what Tony would have expected. Based on the quick but thorough research he’s done on the guy. Like hell would he ever place his best friend into the hands of some wannabie-surgeon without knowing everything but their underwear size about them.

And whoever that guy over there is, it’s not the Doctor Strange he kept reading or hearing about. Professionally-wise, he is everything and more. A fucking pro at what he does, that goes without saying – not that he would ever say that to anyone, even if he was still keen on running his mouth about everything. In person…he’s not quite how he’s being described.

Abrasive? A bit of an asshole? Arrogant? Maybe.

He’s met him twice and the first time he’s been too out of it to observe anything particularly telling of those qualities. An ambitious career man, party-animal and a flashy, center of attention entity? 

Yeah, that can’t be right.

He’s dressed even more casually than Peter – jeans, a plain white shirt and a fucking cardigan, a _red cardigan_! He looks like a Tall Red Riding Hood for fuck’s sake! So much for flashy.

He’s on his second glass of brandy, refused to dance with not one but five devastated – and a bit too buzzed up – nurses, barely talks to anyone and never engages conversations. Center of attention? Party-animal? Nope.

He does have a well-paid job and all the potential to rise to whatever position he wants – yet he refused to accept the offer of becoming the Head surgeon in favor of Doctor Winston, turned down a spot at the Mayo fucking clinic and haven’t written a single word of scientific text since returning to his job. Ambitious career man? _Whaaaat_?

And that’s where the plot thickens.

Everything he’s heard about him might have as well been true – two years or so ago. Before the guy survived his own death in a car accident, lost the use of his hands, disappeared off the face of the fucking Earth – and then reappeared few months ago, miraculously healed and ready to save lives again.

Tony’s not complaining. He did save his best friend’s life, his motor functions and somehow was also the only person _in a hospital_ to notice Tony’s beaten, bleeding and unrecognizable ass in the waiting room. Patched him up, didn’t ask any questions when he realized what…or rather who he’s dealing with and even survived talking to Pepper afterwards.

Then Tony witnessed his easygoing banter-y conversation with Rhodey and he had to admit – his interest piqued.

Fresh off the worst few months of his life, he was ready to occupy his mind with something other than work, the Accords, the Rogues, the gaping fucking hole leading straight to hell Maximoff left in the Compound…or the actual and metaphorical gaping hole Rogers left in his fucking chest.

Suspicious doctors in their grandmothers’ cardigans? Hell yeah he’ll settle for that.

He does love a good mystery. So he downs the whiskey, puts on his badass Sherlock sunglasses, grabs two brandies at the bar and with just a fraction of his former flare and confidence, he catches up with the elusive doctor, hiding at the other side of the room.

Currently cringing at the pianist. Clearly not drunk enough to appreciate this version of Ravel. Strange, not the pianist – that guy is fucking wasted which explains why his Ravel sounds more like Rachmaninov.

Aaaand he should stop thinking about dead Russians. Since one particular living Russian made him overhaul the Tower’s defenses to a point _he_ might not even get in one day.

“Doctor Strange,” he greets him, holding one glass up as offering.

He looks startled for all of one second before he turns around to face Tony, straightening up. How dare he be this tall, is he wearing heels?! Nope…as interesting as that would be.

“Doctor Stark,” he replies in kind and accepts the drink.

He could have had a field day with that before someone’s shield knocked the words and the sass out of him. Time to improvise.

“Tony,” he narrows his eyes at the guarded man and lifts the drink as if to make a toast.

There’s an interesting battle going on in the other man’s eyes at that – like he wants to narrow them back at him, or maybe roll them or raise an eyebrow. He apparently can’t decide and it all sort of flashes in a mere hint across his face, ending with a tiny nod and a sigh.

“Stephen,” he returns the toasting gesture, clinking their glasses together.

Of all the god damn names in the universe, his name has to be St…wait. Stephen Strange? Stephen fucking St –

“_St_ephen _St_range,” he blurts out, glad he didn’t drink the brandy yet, or he might have spat it all over this guy.

This time the doctor does narrow his eyes back at him. A warning. Like…_I dare you to fucking say it_. Probably not the first time someone had a way with that name. The sheer amount of strange jokes probably numbed his brain by now.

Luckily for the strange doctor, he won’t be saying much else. No need – he just shrugs, twist his lips into a _not bad_ expression and nods a few times. Because yeah, not bad. If his parents wanted to set him up for an actor, writer or a fucking magician then they’ve done a _magnificent_ job.

“I know,” he sighs and takes a gulp of the brandy. “You think it’s ridiculous. The name,” he adds and had the annoyance not been accompanied by a small smirk, Tony would almost believe he’s actually offended. “My mother was an English teacher – she liked alliteration,” he makes it sound like an off-hand comment, an excuse he’s given many times before.

Tony doesn’t think so. Not with the smirk turning into a fond smile and his eyes wandering aimlessly down to the ground, softening on the way. That’s how Tony would look and sound if he was telling someone a fond memory…like the one of his mother calling him Antonio or singing him Italian lullabies before bed.

Which he would never tell anyone.

“And it _is_ ridiculous, because she would end up never calling me Stephen. Too long, too formal, not cute enough…_ridiculous_,” he chuckles, finishing off the brandy with a tiny frown.

Tony finds himself smiling at that and it promptly makes him panic a little because _smiling_? No no no. His face can’t handle the strain anymore, smiling is only giving him wrinkles and shit so no. He hides the offensive expression in the brandy glass, downing it at one -

“DOCTOR WIZARD!”

He spits most of the brandy right back into the glass and chokes on the rest. Sure…yeah…Tony can be savage sometimes. But holy shit is Peter on a whole new level! Doctor Wizard?! Talk about savage but that might actually be…offensive.

Just because his name sounds like something straight out of a Rowling’s book or Copperfield’s list of baby names doesn’t give even the boldest of teenagers the right to…huh.

“Um…hello?”

What an…_interesting lack of a reaction_. Deer-caught-in-headlights wide eyes is somewhere down the bottom of a list of what Tony would expect. Then again, that’s exactly why he approached _Stephen_ in the first place.

“What are the odds! This is the largest city in the world and…oh oh,” Peter’s lively form comes to a standstill when he spots Tony. “Uhhhhhhhhm.”

Another deer caught. Tony’s interest is officially off the charts now. “Peeeeter?” he turns a little to face the sweating teen, hands folding across his chest and eyebrows skyrocketing.

“Mister Stark!” he tries going for the innocent act again. “How are you enjoying the party?” Now that’s about as subtle as Pepper’s pizza techniques.

That and the way his eyes keep flicking off to Stephen…who only now resorted to narrowing his eyes and straight up glaring at the kid.

It’s subtle-palooza all around.

Tony pointedly looks between them and there’s no way Doctor Alliteration is going to crack, but Peter’s a whole different story.

On a scale of zero to Harley Keener, Peter is a strong negative one thousand when it comes to the ability to lie, keep a secret or execute emotional extortion.

He dreads the day they meet.

“It’s not what you think, Mister Stark!”

There it is.

“I swear I wasn’t superheroing late at night or anything!”

Wait…what?

“I was with Ned just hanging out and some guys from another class went to summon Cthulhu or something and and and they uh…opened two portals to hell by mistake I guess and there were demons everywhere and Doctor Wizard was like Dumbledoring their asses into submission but then - ” he hurls out in a speed of light and pauses, observing Tony’s slowly raising eyebrows. “Uhm…wait. Is this about last week? Or…?”

Peter gulps looking between Tony and the now positively speechless Stephen.

“I mean…whatever Doctor Wizard told you, I swear it wasn’t past curfew andandand - I didn’t get hurt or anything and the suit worked perfectly! The demons had no chance! Then I kinda ran my mouth and introduced myself like an idiot but I’m working on that! Besides, Doctor Wizard’s cool, right? Uhm…right?”

That’s the thing about Peter. The kid is physically and mentally incapable of maliciously making fun of other people.

On purpose, at least.

So the only other explanation as to why he’s making up an unlikely story about demon attacks and Doctor Surgical Wonder over here being some kinda wizard is…HAPPY FUCKING SPIKED THOSE COCKTAILS DIDN’T HE?!

Because casual magic existing on this planet? That’s uh…nope. Absolutely not. Naaah.

Why is Doctor Not-Wizard looking like someone spilled his worst secret then?

He digresses. He _hates_ mysteries.

Tony puts down his sunglasses and fakes a chuckle, shaking his head. He gives the two deer a polite nod and gets the fuck away from that Twilight zone.

Out of the corner of his eyes he observes the kid and the not-wizard as they have the longest conversation the doctor had all night and if Peter’s dramatic flailing and Stephen’s very subtle cold fury are any signs, it must have been quite the conversation.

Words. _Such a useless concept_.

After making sure there’s no alcohol anywhere near the virgin cocktails’ menu, he slips into one of the side-rooms and does the sensible thing – does his research.

By pulling up last week’s footage from the spider suit.

Who needs words when you have ten minutes of video detailing every aspect of a suspiciously real battle with…demons. Coming out of…two hell portals.

Attacking a suspiciously real…wizard dude…who suspiciously does look like Doctor Strange. And has a suspiciously moving red cape. And closes the suspicious hell portals.

With magic.

And fights the demons.

With magic.

And almost gets his ass kicked…_while using fucking magic_!

_And then exits the place** through a magic fucking portal**_!

“_You okay, boss_?”

Ohhhhh he’s never been better. Who doesn’t just _love _having ten panic attacks a second!

Portals being a thing and magic being a thing…eeeh. But _magic portals_?! What is this?! His personal nightmare time?!

Five minutes later, Stephen Strange is walking through the door like a man walking up to the gallows – he did instruct FRIDAY to be as cryptic as possible through the quick ‘get the wizard in here right now’ message he wrote to her on the tablet and she clearly delivered a stellar performance.

“Look, I don’t know what the k - ”

Tony brings up the footage through the holo screen and unpauses it, letting the battle play out for a few moments while observing Strange’s reaction.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” he shuts it off again and sits back in the armchair, throwing the tablet across the coffee table.

“I can explain that.”

Tony folds his arms against his chest and listens.

*******

** **

*******


	5. Chapter 5

“Stop giving me that look,” Stephen huffs, trying to focus on his research. He doesn’t have to see Wong’s burning glare to feel it piercing his back.

“I’ll stop if you stop.”

“Stop. What.”

“Ignoring me? I told you not to meddle with the Avengers. What do you do? You meddle with the Avengers.”

“Technically…Peter’s not an Avenger, so…”

“So it’s even worse then. You meddle with a non-Avenger teenager that spills the most well-kept secret in the world to the actual-Avengers in a span of few sentences. And has a high resolution video with all the evidence needed to confirm that yes, magic is real.”

“Well…when you put it like that,” Stephen cringes and closes the book, unable to focus on it after all.

“That’s what happened. How else should I put it?”

Stephen turns around in the chair, meeting Wong’s glare. “At least stop making it sound like it’s the end of the world. It’s not.”

“Tell me about it after tomorrow’s New York Times headline reads: Dangerous order of the Mystic Arts at large all over the world! Have fun explaining that to the Masters of Kamar-Taj.”

“I told you…there’s no need to be alarmed. Yet. “

“The part where you say _yet_ always alarms me.”

“I’m handling it!”

“_That_ always alarms me as well.”

Stephen groans and turns away. “You really have zero confidence in my abilities, do you? I’m offended.”

“I’m a realist. And realistically, your abilities as both a sorcerer and a neurosurgeon are unquestionably great.”

“Thank you.”

“Your conflict solving or any other abilities requiring you to socialize though…not so much.”

“Says the guy who spends the better part of the year holed up in a library all alone!”

“Which is why I’m definitely not fit to negotiate a potentially crucial deal with the Avengers and by proxy – with the UN.”

“And who is?! I would love to go tell the Sorcerer Supreme all about it so they can advise on our next step but the last time I checked, the Vishanti are still...picking their noses or…torturing puppies somewhere, fuck if I know what they’re doing instead of appointing us a new Sorcerer Supreme!”

“That decision takes time,” Wong sighs and gives up on the glaring.

“Oh don’t talk to _me _about _time_! You’re only encouraging_ this_ thing to spew more wisdom of the day to me!”

**I take offence at that, sorcerer.**

“Anyway…until there is someone for me to report to, I’m the Master of the New York Sanctum so I will take the responsibility to deal with the situation. It’s my fault anyway…and no matter how little faith you have in my soft skills, I managed to get through the first line of damage control just fine. Do you see any catastrophic headlines? No. Do we have the UN at our door? No. And why is that? _Because I’m handling it_.”

*******

Wong’s lack of confidence might have not been completely undeserved. Half an hour into the meeting with the Avengers later that day and Stephen wonders how long it would take for anyone to notice if he sent the Compound to another dimension.

“I get it, okay? I really do,” Rhodey massages his temples, staring into his notes. “You’ve gone by without anyone noticing or complaining for centuries – good for you. You clearly have a well structured organization going on there but now that _we_ know, you cannot just expect us to pretend _not_ to know.”

“I don’t. In fact, I believe this could end up being a…mutually beneficial alliance, despite what most of my colleagues would say,” Stephen argues.

“And that’s another thing – you’re in charge of this…New York thing. Then there’s someone in charge of London and Hong Kong, then there are other…Master…wizards in that Kathmandu place…and there’s supposed to be someone in charge of all of that, only that someone currently doesn’t exist.”

“The powers that be are solving that as we speak. Once the Sorcerer Supreme is elected, they will be overseeing all of what you’ve just described and more. Most importantly, they will become the leading force of defense on Earth and this dimension as a whole.”

“I believe what Colonel Rhodes is concerned about is that whatever arrangement we make here today or in the upcoming days may not be…accepted by your eventual superior,” Vision speaks up.

“Understandable. I would tell you to wait until the position is filled but as the sorcerers like to say – everything takes time. In this case it’s been nearly a year and I’m afraid the final decision doesn’t have a set date. We can come to an agreement now and if the Sorcerer Supreme later decides it is unsatisfactory, they can take it up with you again. Until then however, I think it’s in our best interest to find common ground.”

“I agree…Ross on the other hand…,” Rhodey sighs and sends his best friend a worried look.

Tony hadn’t said a single word since the meeting started. He didn’t say anything throughout Stephen’s extensive explanation the other night either. The various stages of alarm, panic, confusion, disbelieve and suspicion were plain for him to see though.

At first, he thought it was just a normal scientist slash world police reaction to a magic-wielding stranger that’s part of an entire guild of magic-wielding strangers. Then he noticed the much subtle reactions that accompanied Stephen’s remarks whenever he was talking about magic.

Specifically magic.

The straight-up flinch when he demonstrated a simple spell was all Stephen needed to understand it’s the magic part of this whole deal that disturbs the engineer the most. It took him a while to realize the man’s entire experience with magic comes from Loki and Maximoff – two stellar examples of how to _misuse_ magic.

Unlike the other night though, Tony looks a lot less…freaked out. Still a bit tense where he sits sandwiched between Rhodey and Vision but otherwise at ease.

He taps something onto the tablet in front of him and the holo projector at the center of the table spews out colorful fireworks accompanied by two words:

‘_Fuck Ross_’

“Yeah, very mature, Tones.”

Tony smirks but it slowly fades into seriousness as he blankly stares at the tablet, fingers hovering above the keyboard.

Pushing his luck here, Stephen leans back and narrows his eyes at the man. “This would probably go a lot better if you just…talked. Since you _can_…you just don’t and I know,” he raises one gloved hand in defense at Rhodey, “it’s not any of my business, you’ve got your reasons…whatever. This is important stuff we’re discussing here and _your_ input is just as important.”

Tony stares at him, matching Stephen’s hardened expression and eventually he opens his mouth, takes a breath…but no words come out. He looks back down at the tablet with a cringe and starts typing.

_‘I say we partner up._

_Avengers + wizards = the world might not die a horrible death when the time comes_

_Leave Ross to me.’_

“Your silent treatment _does_ get his veins poppin’…but are you seriously okay with this?” Rhodey frowns at him. “I mean…magic and all that…”

A-hah! So magic _is_ the culprit. He loves being right.

**That makes three of us here in this room**.

“When the time comes?” Stephen reads that bit out loud.

“For the end of the world,” Rhodey supplies. “It’s what we’ve been…somewhat unsuccessfully preparing for these past few years.” He exchanges a look with Tony and continues after apparently deciphering whatever he’s been silently asking for. “Remember the alien attack on New York?”

And here he almost forgot that particular week of absolute hell. “Do I? Ah yes, I was handling three patients at once, space whales were flying past the windows and the giant portal in the sky was hard to miss even from Metro General. Tough battle for the Avengers I imagine…tough battle for us at the hospital for days too. Hardly the end of the world though.”

“It was a preview,” Vision speaks before Rhodey can. “The alien force that attacked the city was only a fraction of what a real invasion would look like. Superior in numbers and technological advancements.”

Tony scoffs and all but punches a single word into the touch-screen.

‘_Lok__i_.’

“What about him?” Stephen asks, Rhodey’s darkening expressions making him more and more unsettled with every second.

“He was behind the at - ”

“As I’m well aware, yes. It’s part of the reason why he’s a persona non grata on Earth now and would be intercepted by the nearest Master of the Mystic arts should he return.”

“That’s…good to know,” Rhodey admits, matching Tony’s raised eyebrow with his own. “Are you also aware that he orchestrated the attack on someone else’s orders? While under the influence of the scepter?”

** _Uuuuugh. Let’s not start talking about my dearest siblings’ endeavors now. It’s enough that I have to share a room with it on such a…blatant display!_ **

“You mean the Mind stone,” Stephen ignores Timey, eyes flicking over to the yellow gem…_blatantly displayed_ on Vision’s forehead. “And no, I was not aware of that.”

“Scepter, stone…whatever. Someone out there is up to no good and has Earth in their crosshair. You don’t randomly mind-control the trickiest person in the universe and send him wreak havoc here just for fun! You do that to test the waters, see what you’re getting’ into before you come in guns blazing with everything you’ve got,” Rhodey adds.

Stephen almost forgot that’s a military man sitting over there, not just…some guy in a can. This matter is obviously not something the Avengers just figured out – as Rhodey said. They tried preparing for it ever since New York. And yet…

“What does Loki have to say about that?”

“Asgard has its own problems, we haven’t been in touch with Thor for a long time now. And I doubt Loki would tell us even if he knew who’s really behind this. Okay…you look super disturbed, doc. It’s freaking me out.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Stephen mutters, narrowing his eyes at Vision. “Where did the Space stone end up, exactly?”

** _Hopefully somewhere far far away._ **

_For once, I agree with you._

“The what now?”

Stephen’s about a second away from rolling his eyes and schooling the Avengers about what they’ve been playing with all these years, but Tony beats him to it with an elbow jab to his best friend’s side, accompanied by more furious typing.

_‘The Tessarekt’_

_‘Tess…a…ract? Rrackt?’_

_‘The blue cube of cosmic fuckery’_

“Oh. Thor took it back to Asgard after New York. He would have taken the Scepter too but HYDRA got to it first,” Rhodey follows up with that.

Finally. Some good news.

_‘Lemme guess.’_

_‘There are more of those pebbles out there.’_

Or maybe not that good. “What _do_ you know about the Infinity stones?” Stephen asks, trying not to add onto his inner panic by the collectively raised eyebrows of ‘what the hell are you talking about’. “Seriously? You have one jabbed in your forehead and you don’t even know?! Fanfuckingtastic…,” he shakes his head.

“Hey, man. We didn’t study magical artifacts at Hogwarts.”

“Kamar-Taj.”

“Hogwarts rolls better off the tongue…and it’s what Peter decided on so…,” Rhodey shrugs and earns another elbow jab from Tony who…surprisingly looks as serious as Stephen feels. Which is about a million times more serious than he’s ever seen the man anywhere.

“To answer your question,” he turns to the engineer, “yes, there are more. Six to be exact. They are the most powerful artifacts that exist in this dimension. Created at the very dawn of the universe, each represents a core element of existence that it manipulates.”

With a simple spell, he conjures up the image of all the six stones above the table – much to Tony’s displeasure if the glare is any indication. If Stephen’s even remotely correct in his assumption, then Tony should start getting used to it and fast because the chances are that the battlefield will be far removed from something Iron Man can handle without any magic involved.

“You’ve already come across Space and Mind, then there’s Power, Reality and Soul,” he points out each stone separately, leaving the green one hover over the rest without comments.

** _Leaving the best for last, I presume? _ **

_Shhh! I’m thinking._

** _And it never fails to be entertaining for me. _ **

Rhodey decides to break the silence first. “And the green?”

‘_Time…right?_’

Stephen stares at Tony’s spot-on guess and nods. “The Time stone, yes. Logical, I suppose. The only…core element left. Important one, too.”

** _Even your flattery is subpar, sorcerer. _ **

“Probably because I’m not trying to flatter you!”

“Uhhh…okay?” Rhodey blankly stares at him while Tony’s back to glaring for some reason.

“Did I say that out loud? Never mind. Ignore me,” he tries to go for a save.

“It speaks to him. The stone,” Vision busts him out in a single sentence and looks damn pleased about it too.

Wong was so right. He should have just stayed away from them. All of them.

“_What_?!” Rhodey and Tony both blurt out at the same time.

With a heavy sigh, he reveals the Time stone within the Eye of Agamotto, letting it have its shiny moment before returning the relic back to dormancy. “I believe you have all witnessed just how sentient the stones can be,” he glares at Vision.

“Thought that was just the Mind stone,” Rhodey sits back against the chair, looking between him and Vision.

“It is not…unfortunately.”

“And the fancy necklace thingie?”

He rolls his eyes at that and starts regretting saving this man’s life. Kinda. Not really…but might as well. “The power of the stones is too volatile, too unwieldy to be used without something else harnessing and focusing it, I suppose. Loki’s scepter, the cube…those were just relics capable of doing exactly that – harnessing the power of the respective infinity stone and make it available to whoever possesses the relic. Agamotto, one of the former Sorcerer Supremes created this one to hold the Time stone,” he taps at the Eye. “It’s been on Earth for a long time now, traditionally wielded by the Sorcerer Supreme who uses it to protect this dimension and is also responsible for protecting it. From anyone who would seek to turn its powers against this dimension.”

“Are you sure wearing it as an accessory is a good idea then? Anyone can just…grab it,” Rhodey blatantly stares at his chest but Stephen’s attention is once again stolen by the harsh staccato of Tony’s fingers against the tablet.

‘_You said you’re not the Supreme Wizard’_

‘_So why do you have the Supreme accessories?_’

It’s a logical question from Tony’s viewpoint…and the man’s logic is starting to irk Stephen. Either that or it’s really just the question itself. “I have successfully used it to protect the Earth before so the Masters agreed I should be keeping it until the Sorcerer Supreme is chosen.”

‘_And the flying cape? That a relic or just a superhero fashion statement_?’

“Ca…it’s the _Cloak of Levitation_,” he squints at the engineer, the Cloak’s hems straightening up to match the mood. “And I’m a sorcerer, not a superhero.”

‘_Duh_.’

He decides to ignore the man’s tiny smirk and with a deep breath he turns to Vision. “You could tell? That I had the stone?”

Vision nods, lowering his eyes in thought. “I couldn’t tell what kind of stone it was, but I could tell your presence was…similar. To mine.”

“Interesting.” And extremely disturbing at the same time. There are ways to track the stones, to a particular solar system, maybe even a particular planet – but to single it out to the individual wielding the stone? That’s disconcerting.

** _Why is that, sorcerer?_ **

“Because with just any one stone you could find all the others…eventually,” he whispers, not quietly enough to not raise a few eyebrows again. “I agree,” he blurts out, going way back in their conversation for anyone to follow. “To whatever terms of alliance you propose for as long as the knowledge of the existence of the Mystic arts is limited only to the Avengers themselves and the necessary few outside of the team. Like your spider protégé.”

“Yeah…he already told Pepper and Happy,” Rhodey leans sideways to Tony like some sort of gossip girl.

‘_Only a matter of time before his friends and May know **everything** too_.’

“You might wanna do something about that. The kid literally blew his cover in five sentences to me.”

‘_Already on it_.’

“And the UN?”

Tony frowns a little, lost in thought for a moment before the cute pout melts into a satisfied smirk and his fingers get back to rapidly tapping and moving across the screen.

** _Shall I even bother commenting on that?_ **

_Since when do you ask?_

** _Since I might not like the outcome of me making a comment. _ **

_You and your perks of knowing the future._

** _Perk…is not the word you would use if you were to possess the same ability. _ **

_Whatever you say. _

“That’s…not a bad idea,” Rhodey spies over Tony’s shoulder, nodding at whatever Tony’s been working on there. “Yeah yeah yeah, when does Mister Genius Stank even have bad ideas, right?” he comments on Tony’s quick glare his way.

Another elbow jab and few more taps later, Tony presents his work through the holo-projection…and maybe Rhodey’s onto something there. Not that bad of idea at all…which he’s not admitting out loud of course.

“You think General Ross will buy that?” Stephen scrolls through the application that Tony set up. No mention of ancient mystical orders anywhere, it’s simply a recommendation for him to join the team as official medical support.

“We can definitely use an actual doctor on the team. Very inconspicuous,” Rhodey nods. “Not to mention they didn’t bother including a field for potential superpowers in this form,” he points out, exchanging a smirk with Tony.

“I don’t like the sound of non-essential personnel…but I’ll allow that just this once.”

“You’ll still have to read and consent to the Accords, essential personnel or not. There are some changes underway but the core idea will probably be the same.”

“I read the first version…shouldn’t be an issue.”

“You sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he drawls out, squinting at Rhodey and his subtly doubtful tone.

“I don’t know…and the last time I didn’t know half the team broke off and picked a fight so…”

He almost forgot that was the whole reason behind the Avengers fallout. Or maybe not the _whole_ reason. There’s definitely more to the story than anyone will ever tell him, he’s sure about that. “I can’t very well speak for your former team…mates. But I personally do not have an issue with authority. As long as I can argue my point in an open discussion when I _do_ have an issue with whatever stupid decision the authority is about to make.”

“What’s the point of authorities if not to be argued with?” Rhodey chuckles, eying Tony. “You actually read the thing, didn’t you?”

“That’s…what I said a minute ago. I read it, thought about it, understood it…I’m sure the tweaks will be for the better? If not, well, nothing’s perfect.”

“Ain’t that a refreshing approach, huh?” he mumbles to Tony, who’s too busy silently staring at Stephen.

“What?” Stephen asks when it starts crossing the uncomfortable border, but holds the scanning gaze anyway.

Tony breaks the eye-contact first, gives the table a little nod and stands up, putting on his fancy sunglasses. If Stephen was a betting man, he’d bet the shades are some high-tech spy-tech like in the movies. Everything about the man is high-tech.

Except for the T-shirt. That’s…Stephen’s not sure what that is. Probably a meme. He hates memes.

Tony rounds the table, walking like a man on a mission all the way to Stephen.

He stands up, followed by Vision and Rhodey, and turns to face the approaching man. Tony stops in front of him and picks up the tablet that ended up on Stephen’s side of the table and then extends his free hand to him. He opens his mouth to speak and hesitates for a long moment. At least it feels like a long moment from where Stephen is standing.

“Welcome…Doctor Strange,” he says out loud in the end and hearing the words makes Stephen unreasonably happy. Not because of the meaning, just the words being said instead of written or reduced to a gesture or whatever else Tony now prefers to communicate with.

He accepts the handshake and nods. Sometime words aren’t necessary – and they seem to both appreciate that if nothing else.

*******

** **

*******

In the days and weeks that follow his official addition to the Avengers roster – civilian and non-essential, yet still somehow publicly relevant – his usual greetings with patients switch from the usual hello’s to ‘Oh hey, you’re the doc with the Avengers!’ and it’s starting to seriously hurt his eyes. The amount of eye-rolls unstoppably skyrocketed.

Still, it has nothing on his ears.

The occasional Avengers news-aware patient is one thing – since nobody knows where he lives and he’s never been seen leaving or entering the hospital, the media and some creepy enthusiasts soon gave up their mission to sniff out juicy secrets and stories. There. Handled.

But nobody prepared him for Peter goddamn Parker. Or as he likes to call him – the unstoppable annoying teen ball of energy.

Worst part is, Stephen still hasn’t figured out how the hell does the kid get inside the Sanctum every time. The first time was probably a lucky accident. But he deployed some serious counter-measures for the next time and boy did he know there _would_ be a next time.

The kid could talk a dead man…into killing himself some more. Excited and loud and curious and completely undeterred by Stephen’s unenthusiastic replies – or lack of any replies at all. He even straight-up portalled him back to Queens after he couldn’t bear to hear one more question about the Cloak’s flying speed properties…and it only got worse, because he just barged in five minutes later looking like a five-year old on Christmas Eve, freaking out over portals for the rest of the day.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” he accuses Wong after Stephen portals back from the hospital only to find Peter already busy in the library.

“I have no idea w - ”

“You’re letting the kid in…somehow. Because those wards I learnt just last week? There’s no way you know how to let someone bypass those.”

“Exactly. So how could I?” he answers and continues to read his book without sparing Stephen a single look.

“If you can’t then how can he?!” Stephen flails toward the kid, just now noticing the Cloak has slid off of him and is already keeping the kid occupied.

Traitorous fucking thing!

** _Throw me his way too. He’s way more fun than anyone that comes visiting here. Which is…ah, yes. No one._ **

_And I prefer it that way…you, traitorous thing, you. _

“No idea,” Wong replies, barely containing his grin.

“You are letting him in!”

“Am not.”

“You are!”

“Nope.”

“You’re grinning! Your façade of lies is crumbling, Wong.”

“My _what_?”

“And now you’re laughing!”

“Yeah, I’m laughing at _you_!” he wheezes out and all but chokes on his laughter after that.

“Doctor Wizard! Hi!” Peter jumps in, beaming with a smile that could probably power up New York for days. “I’m going on patrol later so I thought I’d stop by…do my homework and stuff.”

“Here,” Wong wheezes even more, handing Peter some papers while doubling over.

“Thanks, Wong! Here’s you’re iPad, before I forget.”

Stephen ignores the shady deal – it was no secret Peter hated doing History papers and Wong absolutely loved it, so he makes him some interesting notes, not the whole paper at least, in exchange for music – and pins his eyes on the teen spider.

“How did you get in here?”

“Hm? Like always,” Peter shrugs.

“Okay, now I really need to know. Like always, huh? And how is _that_, exactly?”

Peter blinks at him. “Uhm…through the door?”

“_What_?!”

“The door. You know…,” he mimics opening and closing a door while Wong completely loses it, tears streaming down his reddening face.

**_You _did_ know that the Sanctum is called that for a reason, did you not, sorcerer?_** Timey asks, sounding as amused as Wong looks. **_The door will never remain closed to someone who’s not a threat or to someone searching for help, answers or…homework._**

“You are all just messing with me now aren’t you?!”

“We would never d – Mister Stark! Over here!” Peter madly waves at the entrance behind Stephen.

He turns around just as the engineer walks in, sending Peter a smile and a wink, acknowledging him and Wong with a nod. Tony’s been here just once before and made it sound like he’s just checking the place out…not that he said anything much.

The reason he was checking the place out though was less of a ‘so this is where you protect the dimension from’ deal and much more of a ‘this is where my spider intern is spending his afternoons so I’m here to decide if that’s okay or not’.

“And how did _you_ get in?!” he blurts out at Tony, who stops a few strides away from them and frowns, looking back with a finger pointed at the…the doors. “Nobody ever comes through the doors!”

** _Indeed. Finally, some life in this dreary place._ **

“Oh you’re one to talk.”

** _Entering the Sanctum also requires you to know that it is here – just to answer your next question. That is why mere humans rarely find their way in. _ **

“You…just…stop using your Past & Future Google to answer my _future_ questions….”

“And you stop talking to the Time stone out loud. We have guests!” Wong berates him, wiping his face with a tissue.

Speaking of whom, they don’t seem too fazed by Stephen talking to himself…nor his abrasive manners. They sat down to chill on the sofa and Peter went straight to showing something to Tony on the phone.

That would be his time to leave. He can’t even have peace in the Sanctum anymore! That’s just great.

** _I have not witnessed you more at peace since I have come to be in your possession. _ **

“Nonsense,” he mumbles, stomping up the stairs to his room. He would portal up but that would only get Peter going and…freak Tony out. He’s not portalling to the Compound since the first time he did and nearly caused a heart-attack.

Or a panic attack, he can’t tell the difference.

** _Not even with yourself you cannot._ **

“Right, how about you go watch stuff in the future or whatever you do when you’re silent half of the day? I need to do research on this relic,” he grabs a book and a carved wooden box from the table and plops down onto his bed. “If it’s something Wong bought at the flea market to make fun of my research skills…again…I am personally sending him to the Dark Dimension.”

** _Are you still speaking? I thought you wanted me to go away and be quiet._ **

“I’m talking to myself! No go away and be quiet!”

*******

** **

*******

He closes the book and throws it and the magical but completely harmless and useless relic to the foot of the bed, massaging his temples.

_More at peace_…the words from hours ago edged themselves to his mind. He couldn’t be less at peace if he tried!

And it shows.

Even Christine commented on his high-strung behavior the past few weeks and she stopped commenting on his usual brand of assholiness since the second day they met. He’s all sorts of out of his element now and it annoys him to a point he’s barely able to withstand himself let alone anyone else.

Peter’s an okay kid…an unstoppable ball of teen energy, yes. But lot less annoying than Stephen would like to admit. His curiousness and genuine good, down to Earth nature reminds him of his own teen days. Not of himself, no. The kid’s on another level of nerd and lacks Stephen’s volatile, jerk nature he’d been sporting at high-school - and only mastered since. Less volatile, more jerk.

Any other kid would run away from the Sanctum crying or just wouldn’t bother coming anymore. With the way Stephen’s been treating him so far, he’s wondering what is really Peter’s special power? Radioactive spiders can only do so much when it comes to installing convenient asshole-resistances.

There’s just something unrelenting about the kid. It’s subtle and Peter himself probably isn’t aware of it but it’s there, every time he shrugs whatever stingy thing Stephen tells him and goes right back to his questions about magic or complaints about school.

It’s a sign of someone who wouldn’t give up in a fight even if it meant tearing themselves to shreds in the process. Someone who doesn’t back off at the first sign of trouble…or second…or the hundredth. It’s an incredible strength, the kind radioactive spiders or superpowered serums or even the Infinity stones can’t give a person.

It’s also a weakness at the same time. Not knowing when to give up is what leads most to self-destruction.

Stephen doesn’t have to go far for examples. Peter shares this particular trait with his beloved mentor and self-destruction personified. Tony is all kinds of unrelenting, too. Like most men made of metal are.

Only that metal is more of a corroded crust lately.

He doesn’t know the cause…he doesn’t really know the man to be any fair judge, but it’s like he’s been cruising through space at the speed of light, an unstoppable force snowballing every second until it’s been smashed off course by another force, a lesser force perhaps but counteractive enough to take all that resolve and strength away from him on impact.

Stephen doesn’t have to go far for that example either…just a blink into a mirror would do. He was doing his own cruise down the unstoppable force lane and the impact was both effective as well as literal in his case.

So when he descends back to the library to put the book away and finds the genius engineer dead asleep by the table, drooling all over the Book of Infinity, his eye-rolling streak comes to an end. For today anyway.

The Infinity stones seem to be the big looming shadow on both their minds. They’re behind Stephen’s unrest for sure. Ever since he’s learnt that there was a point in time, not too long ago, when three Infinity stones were present on Earth, he started entertaining the one possibility that he thought he’d never have to entertain. A possibility that should never even be a possibility.

To bring all the Infinity stones together. Wield them as one.

Just thinking about it sends him half-way down the panic portal. As can be expected of a thought that scares him infinitely more than the Dark Dimension, Dormammu and whatever other nasty dangerous critters other dimensions have to offer. He would voluntarily portal in there again just to escape this thought. Or the reality of it – the reality of someone actually pulling it off.

Gathering all the stones, finding a way to use them all together…there is no relic in existence that could do that. Harness all their power. But as a diligently studying sorcerer, he knows what that means.

There was no relic capable of detecting, banishing or blocking demonic entities back in the days…so Agamotto created one. Simple as that. Maybe not simple, Agamotto was a damn genius and is one of the Vishanti now but still…just because there is no relic capable of housing all the Infinity stones doesn’t mean someone creative and powerful enough cannot just create one.

And _then_ what? What can any one of them do against such power?

No wonder Tony’s been living on edge, going through all sorts of extremes to try and protect the planet…and he didn’t even know the Infinity stone aspect of their potential future trouble.

Stephen silently walks over to the bookshelf and only notices the Cloak slipping off his shoulders when he turns around and sees the bizarre staring match between the garment and one grumpy genius.

The Cloak is half-way resting on Tony’s right shoulder, its hems quirked and ‘looking’ up at him sideways. It clearly stirred him awake but interestingly enough it didn’t startle him into flinching away or making a sound.

“Sorry,” he whispers and that _does_ make him flinch, the sleepy glare turning on him. “The thing’s got a mind of its own.”

Tony looks between him and the Cloak and shrugs, straightening up in the chair and stretching his neck.

Stephen takes the opportunity to reach for another book and sits opposite of Tony, a spot usually reserved for Wong but _usually_ stopped applying since Peter’s impromptu visits. “I assume the UN meeting went well? You otherwise stick to brooding over it in your lab,” he adds at Tony’s surprised quirk of an eyebrow.

Tony nods, lips twitching. He whips out his phone and after finding whatever he’s looking for he passes the phone over to Stephen.

He reads through the meeting minutes, widening his eyes more and more with every sentence. “Wow. They approved both the autonomous response and self-oversight?”

Tony nods, eying the Cloak now casually resting on the back of his chair.

“No kidding.” He deemed it good enough news to stop reading and moved to return the phone but Tony shakes his head, nudging his chin in a prompt for him to continue. And of course the best would be left for last. “Barton and Lang agreed to take the deal?! Good for them,” he mumbles, pursing his lips into a not bad expression. “Not so good for the rest of the rogue crew. Something tells me you didn’t expect them to take it though…and by _something_ I mean Rhodey.”

Tony scoffs, fingers running absentmindedly over the opened page of the Book of Infinity.

“Vision told me an interesting story too. About that deep dark fuck-off hole you’ve got in the Compound? You should probably fill that up with something…unless you plan on founding an expedition to the core of the planet. Alternatively, I could throw some magic at it if you think it’s a waste of concrete.”

A quiet chuckle rumbles out from Tony’s throat as he shrugs. It’s a rare sound – as most sounds are when it comes to Tony. Words be damned though. Laugh is much better…if genuine.

“You plan on telling them where they’re hiding? Or you have some stupid reason as to why isn’t the UN invading Wakanda already? Don’t squint at me, I’m not the one being stupid here. You have good relations with T’Challa, I get that you don’t want to sic the UN against your friend’s entire country but maybe the cat-man should have thought about that _before_ offering sanctuary to wanted fugitives. You gave them all the time and opportunities to settle things once and for all – which is more than wanted fugitives deserve by the way – and they didn’t take it. So we’re all wondering what’s going to happen now?” he leaves it at that and holds the phone over the table for Tony to take.

He only moves his subtle glare at the phone instead, making no moves to take it, instead picking up the book.

Stephen rolls his eyes – another day, another streak begins – and just slides the phone across the table. “Sure. It’s not any of my business, I don’t know the rogues and I am officially the non-essential medical support staffer but being _unofficially _a sorcerer, Maximoff _is_ my business. I don’t care how many times anyone tells me she’s harmless and on our side and whatnot. Harmless people don’t send their teammates on an involuntary expedition to China through the geo layers of the entire planet, no matter the reason. I somehow doubt Vision was a threat to her well-being which would be the only excuse in my books.”

Tony mimics his eye-roll, something he clearly has a lot of practice at as well, and lets out a long sigh, staring down at the pages.

“If you leave them be, you’re setting a dangerous precedence here, you know that right? If you let them get away with this then it sends them a simple message – they can get away with everything. None of their actions, including those I don’t know about…they don’t matter. There won’t be any consequences. And without consequences, the future will be just history repeating itself over and over again.”

**_My my, sorcerer. I could not have said it better myself_**. **_Perhaps my unending wisdom is rubbing off on you._**

_Yeah, that’s unlikely._

** _Agreed._ **

Tony’s grip on the book tightens, his gaze purposefully pinned on the lines of text he’s not even reading anymore.

“But who am I to tell you what to do, right? An annoying wizard you barely know anything about apart from the fact he is too good at what he does and knows it. What would he know about anything? Well, I know why you’re not firing up the armor and raiding Wakanda right now. Why you even bothered setting up a deal to pardon the rogues, genuinely hoping they would accept. Why you came out of the fight nearly beaten to death and Captain America was still somehow alive at the end of the day. Seriously, _don’t give me that look_, douchebag. I’ve seen you fight a fucking space whale and win, I don’t care if he can pick up a tank with one hand – if you wanted him dead, he would be a burnt, smoking shit stain on the concrete.”

Tony just blinks at him, shoulders heaving with heavy breaths. Stephen might be overstepping here, but hell…someone has to.

“Whatever happened, whatever he did or didn’t do or someone else did or didn’t do…it still wasn’t enough for you to stop holding back. The reason is as admirable as it is all kinds of stupid. It’s the same reason why you would come _here_, to your personal hell of magic and wizards to read a book on the Infinity stones till ungodly hours of the morning. Because despite everyone’s general consensus that you’re a selfish asshole who’s only after his own gains, you’re hell-bent on keeping the rogues in the picture, safe and sound. Fuck what they’ve done, fuck the consequences…something big’s coming our way and when it arrives, the rogues, the Accords, personal issues – none of it will matter. Your idiotic brain decided that we will need all hands on deck, even if those hands tried to damn well break your chest open not too long ago.”

Tony slams the book shut and there’s something raw flashing across his face that Stephen doesn’t quite recognize.

“I can get behind that, I suppose. It’s stupid and destructive and it will only indulge the rogues in their bad behavior, but if _you’re_ willing to go for the greater good or whatever then _I can get behind that_. But when the time comes – and as my outspoken companion over here constantly reminds me, it’s nothing short of a deadly certainty that the time always comes – I won’t hesitate so send either one of them to the Dark Dimension if they get in the way or worse, get on my nerves. I will gladly face the UN to explain why the rogues disappeared off the face of the Earth in just a snap of my fingers.”

“Why?” Tony whispers unexpectedly, his voice getting raspier with every day that goes by without him saying much out loud.

Stephen can tell he’s not asking about the rogue part; Tony didn’t seem too interested about that. When Stephen agreed to join in with his approach, now _that_ was a different story in terms of a reaction.

For a man with such an ego, the lack of confidence in himself is staggering. Another thing he can relate to on very bad days.

“Because you are not who I expected you to be…you know, the public you. The genius, billionaire, selfish, narcissistic and arrogant asshole megalomaniac. I mean, you _are_…genius billionaire. The rest is highly questionable based on what I said before. I have it from a highly functioning human source that true narcissists don’t go out of their way to save the world, risking their life with zero possible reward while letting their mortal enemies get away with murder, so to speak.”

Tony doesn’t seem persuaded by the answer at all, so Stephen spells it out for him, just this once.

“In other words, I was wrong about you. _They _are wrong about you, too.”

If eyebrows could escape one’s forehead, Tony’s would be somewhere on the Sanctum’s roof by now.

“Then again, I think you make it overly easy for people to click and be satisfied with the simple lie you present them with. Either that or they just all have brains the size of peanuts, I can’t decide which is more likely.”

This time, he recovers from whatever shock stupor Stephen’s been sending him into the past few minutes and makes a grab for the phone.

‘_You talk too much, anyone ever told you that_?’

“Not exactly, but I do hate awkward silences so I have no problem talking for the both of us.”

‘_I’m not complaining_’

‘_Just an observation_…’

“Impeccable one, you really are a genius.”

‘_You called me a douchebag_…’

“Plenty of genius douchebags, it’s not mutually exclusive or anything.”

‘_Takes one to know one’_

“Of course. My coworkers would undoubtly confirm what a genius asshole I am, both the doctors _and_ the sorcerers.”

‘_That explains _so_ much_…’ he types up but Stephen is too startled by the _actually genuine_ smile that slips onto Tony’s face to pay the text any attention.

“Well,” he clears his throat and sits back, stretching his legs underneath the table. “Sure explains why Rhodey sees through me like we’ve known each other for years and not just weeks.”

Tony chuckles, slowly nodding. He picks up the Book of Infinity and waves it in the air. ‘_This thing accurate? Or just old-ass magical gossip_?’

“The bits on the Time stone are as accurate as it gets. Agamotto studied it and practiced with it for a long time and the Sorcerers Supreme that came after him updated it on the go as well. As for the other stones, the info is fairly basic especially when it comes to the specific powers each stone has. We had the luxury of observing it first hand with the Time stone, but we rarely encountered the others in the past. They are a bit of a mystery in terms of functionality because of that…so those parts are mostly theorized.”

‘_And if used all together_?’

Stephen didn’t even notice how comfortable he’s gotten, having a partly one-sided conversation with…his teammate? Is that what he is now? This early in the morning, he can never quite tell. The mention of what plagues his nightmares these days brings Stephen back to focus like a bucket of ice water.

“The Time stone described the potential power to me once as – limitless. Safe to assume if someone would find a way to actually wield all the stones as one, they would be all-powerful. Capable of manipulating all core elements of the universe with just a wave of their hand…or something like that.”

Tony nods and does it again – takes a breath, opening his mouth as if to speak but in the end resorts to just typing. Stephen doesn’t mind either way, so he stifles the unwelcomed pang of disappointment the action causes.

‘_Figured as much…and so did you; you think that’s what’s happening_’

“Great minds think alike. And yes, that’s what I think. What gave it away, my extensive knowledge on the subject or just my general state of freaking out the past few weeks?”

‘_Yes_’

“That…reply doesn’t work there.”

‘_It_ _means _both_…you need to brush up on your memes_’

“No, thank you.”

‘_Peter doesn’t take no for an answer_’

“I noticed. I spider-proofed the Sanctum and he still somehow finds a way in.”

Tony snorts, shaking his head as he types. ‘_Can’t spider-proof the door…Wong said so_’

“Yes, so did Timey…that’s two majorly annoying energies in this place.”

‘_You got a pet name for your stone_?’

“Wh – it’s not a pet name! It’s…I refuse to call it _the Time stone_ every god damn time, it’s a waste of time!”

** _Go easy on using the word time as well, sorcerer. You will only summon me, after all._ **

“Great, now it’s awake and talking smack at me.”

There’s that annoyingly amused smile again and Stephen should probably go to sleep now. Handling Tony Stark in the middle of the night is like handling himself and that’s too much of himself to handle.

‘_Yo, stone? Know why the wizard sat on his watch_? _‘Cause he wanted to be on time_’

“Ughhhhhh,” Stephen groans at the joke and at Timey for laughing at it. “Please don’t.”

‘_Wanna know how to make time fly_?’

** _Throw me out of the window, that’s an old one._ **

“Well I am seriously thinking about throwing you _somewhere_. Both of you,” he adds, squinting at Tony.

** _Ah, that brings me back. Agamotto did enjoy throwing me across the field and yelling: Look how the time flies! Needless to say, it was in his younger, more fun years and his boring acquaintances were less than amused. _ **

“Is this your subtle way of telling me I’m boring?”

** _And old._ **

“Says the oldest being in this part of the galaxy! Unless the Mind stone is your big brother?”

** _Naturally not._ **

“If you say so,” he scoffs and only then notices Tony’s looking through the book Stephen brought over, the phone lit up with a single message.

‘_Weirdoes…_’

“Takes one to know one,” he echoes Tony’s own words at him.

Tony doesn’t look up, his shrug and the subtle smirk being enough of an answer.

They stay in the library until morning, reading their respective books mostly in silence that even Timey doesn’t break with any more wisecracks. It’s the first peaceful moment he’s had is a while.

If only his paranoid, pessimistic brain could believe it would last.

*******

** **

*******


	6. Chapter 6

As far as awkward meetings go, this one takes the cake. At least where Tony’s master list of awkward meetings is concerned. Would have been a lot worse if any of the remaining Roguevengers were present though.

Birdbrain swoops in first to get his stuff from the Compound and heads right back to the farm. Neither of them say anything, but they’re both satisfied with the half apologetic, half grateful look – which pretty much sums up their entire exchange. Sums up the entirety of their relationship, really. They enjoyed the occasional bicker-fest with each other but beyond that…there was nothing.

So what is there to say between two former, _maybe_ teammates? Not that Tony would know much about all that. Teamwork was never his strong point so maybe this is exactly how teams are supposed to work.

Do the work together but beyond that, there’s nothing. Not even a hint of amicable relationship. Not a drop of care about each other. Outside of a potentially world-ending crisis, they really were…nothing.

It reminded him why he was never sold on teams. Teams are all about trust and outside of Rhodey and maybe Vision, there’s nobody in the old and new crew he trusts. Not anymore. If ever…

Trust is tricky. It requires people to want to get to know each other and look past the forts they’ve built around themselves. And their assortment of bent and broken have forts for days. Some of them so good that no siege could even make a dent in them.

The lack of trying plays its part. Lang had never even met Tony before Berlin and he’s already acted like he knows all about him. The same old story…if it’s not his past or his well-constructed lie of a public image, it’s Howard.

Their meeting is probably not even a meeting. He brings in the legal documents, signs some more stuff and leaves. He says _hi_ and doesn’t follow up with any witty quips about the Starks, so plus points there. Just as anyone would expect from two people that really, really don’t know anything about each other…although Lang was literally _inside_ _him_ during that battle. Maybe not _that_ literally.

Both Clint and Lang had a simple goal – get back to their families. No time for pleasantries…or unpleasantries, they’ve had enough of those. After half a year of being away from their children and spouse, that’s all that really mattered to them.

Finally. Some damn priorities.

That’s how he knows the remaining Rogues will probably not surface from whatever shady motel T’Challa hid them in. Not until some major shit goes down.

Not until it’s too late.

The new wizard alliance put things back into perspective for him. The aftermath of the civil war left him bitterly wallowing in all the personal aspects of it, the broken promises, broken trusts…if there was anything to break there…so much that he forgot the bigger picture.

The why he fights. The why he’s not already chilling in the middle of the woods somewhere, with a little lake and a tiny farm…garden…flowerpot…thing. The why he can somehow overlook everything that happened in Siberia and before that and lobby for the Rogues to be reinstated and their names cleared. Barnes included.

The big ominous something that’s coming their way to fuck their shit up. Kill everyone, destroy the world, the whole shebang.

Leave it to a fucking wizard doctor to remind him all about it. While also calling Tony out on his bullshit. And somehow knowing him better than all the Roguevengers _combined_. After meeting him twice.

_Twice_.

Tony blames it on some unseemly magic trick because otherwise he would have a living proof of how little the Avengers ever cared to get to know him. Bypass the forts, look beyond whatever show he puts up, whatever fake smile he comes up with…took the wizard all of twenty minutes. And that’s just scary so yes, it’s definitely magic.

Probably the cape. Or the Time stone.

Just when he thought he was being weird talking to his bots and AI’s, Stephen one-upped him. For sure. Though he will never admit it because that still counts as competition. And god _damn_, does the wizard like to compete.

Being in the same room with the guy is like being in the same room with himself…an arguably more fancy, Dumbledore-ish version of himself. Not that Mister _I make my hair flow in magical wind_ diva looks anything like the old wizard fart. Nope. But he_ is_ powerful as fuck. If that footage of him fighting the little satans wasn’t enough to prove that, Wong’s bits of gossip and the way he talks about him sure is.

He didn’t know how to handle that for a while – having a powerful magic-wielding dude living in the NYC version of Hogwarts just few blocks away from the Tower.

Then Peter happened.

Peter _I-love-magic_ Parker who would constantly barge into the Sanctum before his after-school patrols and all but bully the wizards into telling him all about magic.

Despite his questionably tolerated presence and definitely frowned upon interrogations, Peter would always emerge from the Sanctum unharmed and if possible, even more excited to return than ever before.

Powerful as fuck or not, wielding the Time stone or not, if there was so much as a single hair bent on the kid’s head as a result of his visits, Tony would level that place with the ground, and Stephen with it; magic be damned. He’d find a way to beat the odds.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to.

Stephen acts all bothered but doesn’t really mind Peter around, and Wong straight-up enjoys the company. After spending who knows how long with just Stephen in that place, Tony’s not surprised about that. Even Wong’s resting bitch face isn’t enough to persuade him otherwise.

Maybe he’s finally going see the light side of the force for once. Loki and Wanda’s Sith version of magic set a damn high bar for magical fuckery, so he’s not about to keep his hopes up just because the Sanctum wizards have so far proven harmless and only kicked some major demonic ass.

“Where exactly are you going to put all this junk?” Happy barges out of the elevator and into the spacious area of the penthouse. “Seriously, I’ve been doing the inventory for two days and I think I might actually run out of Excel lines. You should just pack your tech and leave the rest to whoever moves in here.”

“Hm.” It’s an option, but he’s definitely not leaving the sofa behind. Or the piano. Or that ottoman, Pepper loves that ottoman.

“Or – just pack the penthouse and the workshop. There, problem solved. I’m well aware of your…sofa obsession.”

He glares at him from where he’s sitting on said sofa and pets the cushions placatingly. It’s not an obsession, finding a sofa this comfortable is a harrowing task that some never accomplish their entire life!

“Fine,” Tony agrees to the terms and hopes there’s nothing he’ll miss from the remaining eighty floors of the Tower. Mostly empty floors. Weren’t supposed to be _that _empty but he sure wasn’t going to _beg_ the Avengers to move in or anything.

The only person who’s got stuff in here is Bruce…and Bruce is who knows where now. He’ll make sure Happy boxes his stuff for whenever he returns. And he better return.

Bruce was probably the closest thing to a friend he had among the first Avengers. Some years ago he would even outright call him friend, but he’s using the term more cautiously since the snooze-fest that was apparently Tony spilling his heart about the whole Mandarin thing.

Tony’s not good at friends either, apparently. Teams, friends…romance. Outside of science he really is a useless human being. In the end it’s just the small circle of people staying with him at the Compound plus Peter, that he has any meaningful relationship with. At least they’re the only ones that didn’t ditch him the first chance they got.

Well, they didn’t ditch him _yet_.

“_Doctor Strange is requesting to meet at the Compound_,” Friday announces and brings up a video feed from the Compound’s briefing room, where the wizard is currently pacing in circles.

Tony would switch into high alert but there is something about Stephen that doesn’t warrant that at all. Either that suspiciously happy smile he’s sporting, or the way he seems almost…giddy. If he’s about to deliver bad news then there’s something majorly wrong with the guy. Good news would be nice…nice enough to allow magic portals in the Tower?

He decides that yes, definitely worth it so he lets FRIDAY relay the message and few moments later Stephen portals in, scanning the room with curiosity.

“You can just portal wherever?” Happy frowns at Stephen, abandoning his surely important work on the tablet.

“If I know where I’m going, visually, then yes,” Stephen answers him without a pause or an eye-roll and Tony’s this close to check for possible body-snatchers or something. Spilling magical trivia to correct someone or bicker with Wong or make Peter’s head spin, sure. Giving it up just like this? Now that’s not the wizard Tony knows…or thinks he knows.

“Huh. Better not start portalling anyone from the team to where they want or I’m out of a job. That would be the third job in almost ten years – redundant.”

“Aren’t you the head of security…or something?” Stephen turns his head to look at Happy.

“_Or something_ is the correct answer to that. Anyway, why do you look like you’ve won the lottery? Did you use that _time thing_ to spy on the winning numbers? Because if you did, we need to have a serious talk.”

Tony chuckles, making Stephen’s squinty look snap to him and dissipate in a second.

“Nope, although now that you mention it…nope, apparently no, I can’t do that. I mean I can…but Timey very specifically s…yeah, just no. Forget it. Oh for f…forget I even said anything!” Stephen flails, rolling his eyes at whatever the stone is saying.

“And I thought _you_ having English to beeping conversations with the bots was weird,” Happy leans to the side to properly look Tony’s way before spinning on the bar stool and going back to his work.

“Believe me, listening in on my one-sided conversations is still not as weird as actually having an ancient artifact tuned in to your brain 24/7. Yes, I called you ancient. You’re as old as it gets, you said so yourself so deal with it! Ahhh that’s cute, you think you can ruin my day? Good luck with that, you little green pebble…anyway!” he clasps his hands together looks up to meet Tony’s mischievously amused expression. “I’ve got good news.”

“Yeah, we figured,” Happy answers for both of them.

“At least I _think_ it’s good news…I mean…it’s definitely _news_. I didn’t have enough time to decide if it’s good or not. Can you _not_?! When it comes to you I had _enough time_! Sorry…I’ll try not to do that out loud.”

“Stephen…?” Tony blurts out impatiently, gesturing for him to go on and finally tell them what’s up. The name almost comes out as a badly whispered parseltongue so he clears his throat and waits for Stephen to continue. His voice is just fine even though the long spans of silence usually make whatever he says bordering on scary.

His genius brain is not genius enough to remember clearing his throat first and Rhodey’s solution of “Just talk more often then.” is…intriguing and effective but still a no go.

Not for the lack of trying though. He often catches himself seconds away from speaking out loud – and that’s the thing. He catches himself – and stops. His self-imposed silence is…comfortable, despite what anyone else likely thinks about it.

At first he just couldn’t find his voice at all. Then, easing back into it with few words at a time proved just too damn convenient, so now that he has an entire sentence ready to roll off his tongue, his brains is like _no you don’t_ – and he doesn’t. 

It annoys him a little…but not quite enough to do something about it just yet. Or maybe ever.

“I um,” Stephen follows suit and also clears his throat, his usual confident bordering on cocky presence is all gone, replaced by this nervous, shy thing that’s almost vulnerable to behold. If Tony wasn’t kinda speechless already, he would be now. “I’m…,” he takes another breath and regains some of his composure. “I’m the new Sorcerer Supreme,” he blurts out, letting out a short, disbelieving laugh.

“You’re the _what_ now?” Happy spins back around to face them, but Stephen ignores him, talking just to Tony.

“It’s official now. Like…an hour…sort of now. The Vishanti made their decision and the Masters all but pentagram-summoned me to Kamar-Taj because of it.”

“That a promotion or…?”

Tony nods, staring at the wizard with a face slowly cracking into a grin. Those are definitely good news.

Means their alliance is solid. Means they don’t have to deal with a _stranger_ – technically speaking. Means the order of Copperfield arts or whatever they call it is in capable, non-psychopath hands. All of that combined and more makes Tony ridiculously happy.

_Ridiculously_ because he basically invented a state-of-the-art, nano-partical version of his suit the other day and he was not _this_ happy about it. He’s never _this_ happy about anything! Or it’s just been _that_ fucking long. Yep, that would be it.

“Go on, how hard are you trying not to come up with another Dumbledore joke…this time it might at least be accurate,” Stephen matches his grin and that also makes him ridiculously happy.

What. The. Fuck.

“Technically, Dumbledore was a Headmaster of just one school…not _all_ the schools. So Tony was accurate all along,” Happy winks at him.

“Does that make me the Minister of Magic then?”

“No, this makes you a gigantic Harry Potter nerd – suspected and now confirmed. You owe me a fifty,” Happy points at Tony and makes another dramatic spin back towards the bar and his tablet.

Tony rolls his eyes and nods, abruptly stopping when he realizes what this means in addition to what he’s already surmised. It’s so good he just has to say it out loud, just to hear the perfection.

“Sorcerer Supreme Stephen Strange…” he raises his eyebrows, lets the sentence sink in and then bursts out laughing.

Stephen’s grin only lessens by a single fraction of annoyance. “There’s that. Makes me sound like a Slytherin when you say it like that. I suppose calling yourself supreme _anything_ immediately gets you a one-way ticket to Slytherin.”

Tony keeps on chuckling, bringing up his own tablet from underneath the sofa cushion and tapping his reply. ‘_Stark Supreme…why haven’t I thought of that when I took over the company_?’

“Because SI is way better than SS…those would be major Slytherin points there.”

‘_You are major supreme Slytherin then_’

“Well I’m not abbreviating my name, am I?”

“Only you two can go from Slytherin to impromptu Nazi jokes. Please don’t. Go full Nazi, I mean,” Happy sighs.

‘_Wait till Peter gets the news…he will start calling you Supreme Doctor Wizard_’ he wiggles his eyebrows to accompany the message.

“Oh for fuck’s sake…I told him to just call me by name weeks ago. _Any_ one of my actual names!”

‘_Vincent_?’

Stephen cringes. “Not that one.”

‘_Well, Doctor Wizard is one of your names…Peter thinks so and good luck changing his mind_’

“At least he doesn’t call you Iron Man!”

‘_Is this you admitting Doctor Wizard is your superhero name_?’

“I’ll pretend I didn’t…read that.”

“Wow…this is like a double-dose of one-sided conversations,” Happy mumbles, still with his back to them and completely unaware of Tony’s messages. “Makes you extra weird, Supreme Wizard.”

“Don’t call me that,” Stephen barks back, actually sounding threatening. “Peter gets a pass, you don’t.”

“But moooooooom,” Happy whines, making Tony spit all over the screen.

“Who is this guy again?” Stephen waves at Happy, not bothering to even look his way and the sheer diva energy behind it causes Tony to lose it again.

He haven’t had this much fun since…for fucking ever. Because that’s one accurate time value when it comes to him and fun…and tear inducing laughter.

“Oh you’re on, wizard. I was going to be all respectful and stuff since you’re the overlord now, but nope. You’re on,” Happy makes his feeble comeback but stays firmly with his back to them, stressing his seriousness.

Him and Wong would _love_ each other. Their version of banter involves a lot of bitchy seriousness and even bitchier resting faces.

While Stephen just scoffs in return, Tony wipes away the tears and in the spirit of seriousness taps a quick: ‘_Congrats_’

“Why thank you, Doctor Stark. As I said…still not sure where this is on a scale of good, bad…worse and potentially catastrophic,” he looks down and Tony decides uncertainty is not a good look on him.

“Damn good,” he says, sending him a daring eyebrow when his gaze snaps up, showing even more doubt than before.

“We’ll see…I was sort of hoping to get rid of this thing,” he points at the necklace artifact thing that holds the Time stone.

He says it in jest, likely to tease the sentient rock but Tony picks up on the hidden note of relief. They clearly annoy the hell out of each other, but parting way now after whatever shit they’ve been through already wouldn’t be easy for him.

It’s like DUM-E…annoys him to no end but not even the Vishitty or whoever they are would be able to separate them at any point in their co-existence.

‘_No you weren’t_…’

Stephen opens his mouth to respond but exhales and closes it after a brief moment, pursing his lips. He stares at Tony with that uncomfortably piercing expression of his that Tony suspects is some magically enhanced brain and soul scanner but says nothing, just shrugs, lips twitching into a tiny smile.

Words…still a useless concept.

*******

** **

** **

*******


	7. Chapter 7

Stephen’s gotten used to Peter basically overtaking the Sanctum whenever he visits, but for the Cloak to immediately abandon him and bolt for the kid, now that’s just rude.

** _If able, so would I._ **

_Keep saying that and I will dump you on one of the other Masters…you wouldn’t last a week with Minoru._

** _She seems rather nice. Much nicer than you, that is certain._ **

_She is. You know what her favorite music genre is?_

** _Oh._ **

_Exactly. _Country_! That is nobody’s favorite music genre!_

** _Well…_ **

_Don’t. I don’t need to know the exact number of all these…infidels._

“Doctor Supreme!” Peter waves at him the second he marches into the library.

“Stop callin - !”

“Did you know the Cloak is super strong?! Like…wow!” he talks over him and points to where he’s having a wrestling match with the traitorous outerwear.

“Yes. Feel free to test exactly how strong it is…see if I care when you get ripped to shreds,” he adds in a whisper, leaning towards the Cloak.

Just like the kid, the Cloak pays him little to no attention and continues to playfully arm-hem wrestle with the spider.

The imaginary seal on the Vishanti’s decision to appoint him the Sorcerer Supreme is still fairly new and he’s yet to deal with the influx of work and extra responsibilities – just like the sorcerers are yet to deal with this decision. To Peter, it’s all the same – as Tony predicted – so he switched to Doctor Supreme in a span of one minute and there’s no arguing about it with him.

The sorcerers weren’t so quick to accept that, especially some of the more experienced ones that – unlike Stephen – expected to be given the position. They aren’t complaining too loud – just loud enough for him to take notice of their disdain. It kinda brings him back to his first job after finishing med school. He made it to a surgeon in months and the interns and residents competing for the spot for _years_ were about as happy as the sorcerers are now.

He dealt with his colleagues back then so he’ll deal with the sorcerers too. Proving himself worthy won’t be a walk in the park but Stephen lives and breathes for these challenges. Or competitions. Too bad the Vishanti didn’t actually make the whole thing into a competition. He would have only enjoyed that _too_ much.

If the old Dumbledores at Kamar-Taj were surprised by their choice, Stephen was utterly flabbergasted. To be deemed worthy of the responsibility by the most powerful entities in their dimension…he still can’t wrap his head around that. It made him speechless and then excited though, nearly rivaling that one moment all those months ago when he woke up with his hands back to the way they were.

“Anything I can help you with today?” he sighs, giving up whatever fight was left in him. One does not simply fight with Spiderman, verbally or otherwise. Not only is it futile but the wrath of Tony Stark is also something to be avoided.

“No…just needed somewhere quiet. To think,” he blurts out, letting the Cloak manhandle him to the ground and wrap around him like a burrito.

“Quiet…to think,” Stephen repeats, sitting down by the table and raising an eyebrow at the fallen kid.

“Yeah,” Peter nods.

“You. Quiet?”

He gives him a guilty smile and shrugs. “I know, right? It’s just…there’s a lot on my mind right now and…I don’t know. This place has that vibe…peaceful, quiet…magical.”

“Uhuh. Does your…unquiet mind have anything to do with your highly stressful Washington trip? I mean a falling elevator in the Monument, that must have been scary. Not that you were there or anything.”

“Doctor Supreeeeeeeme!” he whines, untangling from the Cloak but keeps sitting cross-legged on the floor with the biggest pout ever. “I don’t mind you poking fun at me but this is serious stuff! And nobody’s listening to me,” he mumbles.

“I’m all ears, Spider-serious-man. What is it? School trouble? Neighborhood trouble? Teenage trouble?”

“It’s _all_ of the above! First, Ned figures out I’m Spiderman – I know! I’m working on it, alright?! Then some really shady bad guys with really shady tech try to rob a place just a block away from this party, and then there’s this dance thing and this girl…but forget that! The bad guys were like…serious deal! Flying metal wing thingie and this super weird tech gadgets and weapons and and and Mister Stark is all busy doing whatever and Happy’s not answering my texts and nobody cares there are potentially dangerous villains on the loose!” he blurts out almost in one breath, collapsing on his back and breathing out loud like he’s just ran a marathon. “So yeah…a quiet moment to think would be nice.”

Stephen clears his throat and leans back into the chair. “I don’t remember high-school being _this_ complicated…but I didn’t hunt for bad guys after doing my homework so…why don’t you leave the bad guys to Tony and start worrying about the dance and the girl and…your poor secret identity keeping?”

Peter groans, bracing up on his elbows to look at him. “I can’t! Someone needs to stop these guys! I can’t just…go on a date and forget about them!”

“Actually, yes you can. Let Tony handle it, he’s already sicing a bunch of FBI agents on them. If they’re dealing weapons or…whatever they’re doing just let them figure it out.”

“How do you know all that?” Peter squints at him.

“How do I…as if one single conversation with Tony goes without him ‘telling’ me what you’re up to. To be fair, I do ask anyway.”

He falls to lie on his back again with another groan, hiding his face under his arms. “But…what if the FBI _can’t _handle it? I mean…_I_ couldn’t catch them and I was cheating every step of the way!”

“If they can’t then Tony will. Or I will, how about that? Unless of course you think us old-timers won’t be able to take on…super-weird tech bad guys.”

“Of course I don’t think that!” he’s back up on his feet in seconds, eyes wide with an offended glint to them. “I…just feel like I should finish this, you know? Since I kinda started it.”

“You made the bad guys do bad guy stuff?”

“No? I caught them doing bad guy stuff.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re suddenly responsible for them all on your own. You did the ground work, now let the FBI minions do the rest. If they won’t then your wizard slash meme daddy minions will finish them off.”

“Team Suprememe!” he grins, his superteenage crisis forgotten the instant and it’s Stephen’s turn to groan.

“Would it be so terrible for you to call us by names?”

“Wh…but I am! Besides, teams need codenames.”

“Yes. What happened to the ‘Avengers’?” Stephen points out.

“That’s like…all of you though! So team Suprememe it is!”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Nah-uh!”

“Uh-huh.”

“Naaah!”

“Yeeeh!”

“What are you, five?”

They snap their heads towards the doors where Wong is now giving them his trademark glare.

“Like walking into a kindergarten,” he mumbles, shaking his head. “You’ve got a training session in Kamar-Taj in ten minutes, don’t be late! I’m off to find some food in here,” he adds while already three steps out of the room.

Stephen exchanges a look with Peter and the next second they burst out laughing. Not exactly something Stephen’s used to these days – peace, quiet, laughter. He definitely _could_ get used to it.

The disappointment that is sure to follow once all hell breaks loose is not worth it though.

** *****

“You called Doctor Supreme?!” is the first thing Stephen is greeted with when he portals into the Compound’s infirmary. “I told you I’m fine! Look! It’s all healing and…okay, I’ll shut up now,” he mumbles, his resolve crumbling underneath the heavy glare that Tony looks at him with.

“Hello to you too,” Stephen quips and would berate the kid for calling him that – again – but instead feels the need to match Tony’s hardcore glare.

Something or _someone_ did a number on him. If it’s the latter, that someone better be dead or praying to soon be dead before Stephen gets to them. Face mangled and playing with all kinds of colors, torso bruised and bleeding…yep. _Someone_ is definitely dead or heading to the Dark Dimension. Depending on who gets there first, him or Tony.

If Stephen’s pissed, Tony is already plotting a millionth murder scenario by now.

“Let me guess. You went after the bad guys,” Stephen sighs and moves in to inspect the damage, ignoring Peter’s protests and flailing hands.

“They were stealing Mister Stark’s stu-ouch! Just let it be, it will be healed by tomorrow!”

“I think I’ll be the judge of that – you keep calling me Doctor so just try and argue with me now,” he squints at the kid before he can come with another unlikely excuse. “You’ve got X-rays in here?” he asks Tony, who is yet to stop staring at Peter. His wanna-be angry look betrays something else than fury though.

Among other things, it’s mostly guilt.

“_Already ahead of you, doc_,” FRIDAY answers him instead, the screen next to the bed lighting up with a full-body scan.

“Neat,” he nods and studies the interactive results. He would have died another thousand deaths to have this kind of tech twenty years ago.

True to Peter’s own words, the damage is already regenerating in a completely inhuman speed. Bones mending, wounds sealing, blood refueling…at this rate he will be as good as new in a day or two. FRIDAY must have deduced that on her own as well, but the Stark energy in the room is clearly not about to prove the kid right by telling him that.

The extent of the injuries is…disconcerting to say the least. It brings back the memory of his first encounter with Tony. Someone – and he long since figured out who – beat him damn near to death while he was in the armor and it’s scarily similar to Peter just now. With his enhanced physiology, to still come out of the fight wounded like this…any other person would have been dead by now.

He sighs again, willing his brain to stop coming up with the scenarios of the sheer blunt force that someone fought the kid with, and turns to the two silent occupants of the room.

“Was that date so bad? That you ran head-first into a speeding train instead?”

“It was a plane,” Peter mumbles.

“So…worst date ever?”

“And a building.”

“Worst date and homecoming dance ever?”

“And some amusement park rides.”

Stephen shakes his head and rummages through the drawers for some bandages. “Who was this girl, Samara? Do I have to go perform an exorcism?”

“It wasn’t her fault!” Peter actually glares at him. “Her dad was kinda the big bad guy so…aaaawkwaaaard.”

He stares at the teen, chancing a quick look at Tony, who’s still standing like a statue on the other side of the bed but doesn’t look like a volcano about to erupt anymore. “I_ think_ I’ve just figured out why I’ve never dated girls in high-school. So much drama. I also wasn’t stopping top secret super-villain heists every other weekend, so there’s that.”

Peter sighs, melting into the pillows stacked behind him. “Can’t wait to explain to her why she got ditched on the biggest school event of the season without mentioning I’m the reason her father is heading off to prison for the rest of his life.”

“You’ll have to figure something out. Remember, if you out yourself to one more person, Wong is winning the bet.”

“Arghhhh! You’re right…damn.”

“Which prison, by the way? Out of…completely non-vengeful curiosity?”

“No idea. And you really don’t have to find out and portal him into another dimension or whatever you always threaten everyone with.”

“Ah yes, the Dark Dimension. That’s one of the mild threats; I assure you the man who did _that_ to your face would end up disappearing into a portal leading to a much worse place than that.”

“You should see _his_ face!”

“Oh I would love to – _just so I could send him to a place much worse than the Dark Dimension_.”

“He’s already going to prison!”

“That’s good…for starters.”

“Doctor Wizard!” Peter whines, shaking his head.

Stephen sighs, checking over FRIDAY’s findings again if only to make sure there really is no underlying cause for concern and that Peter’s insane recovery abilities are kicking in and will likely do its job by tomorrow.

“I’d say you had enough excitement for one night. Go home, sleep it off. I’ll stop by in the morning to che – _I will_ and if you try arguing I will keep checking up on you every hour!” Stephen raises a warning finger Peter’s way when the teen prepares to complain. In the end he just nods and sinks even further into the pillows if that was even humanly – or spider-ly possible. “Is Happy available?”

As he expects, Tony shakes his head no, fidgeting where he stands.

“Mr. Hogan is taking care of the plane…crash and stuff,” Peter mumbles in reply.

“Who? Wait…his name is _Happy Hogan_? For fuck’s sake…Happy Hogan, Pepper Potts, Peter Parker…and you’ve got the nerve to berate _me_ about alliteration?” he quips at Tony, hoping to erase the strained frown off his face but with little result. “I’ll portal you home then. If Happy complains about me stealing his job then you’re both my witnesses that he was too busy doing his actual job to play taxi man.”

Seeing his admittedly poor attempts at melting the chilly atmosphere away with jest is missing its mark – big time – he prompts Peter off the bed and steers him to the side where he has enough space to portal him to Queens. The teen obeys without a single argument and with an unusually quiet “G’night” he walks through the portal, shoulders hunched and feet scraping the ground.

Not exactly what one would expect from the overly energetic and excited teen who just saved the day, by all means.

That’s the thing about the kid. He put a stop to a crime and rid the city of a dangerous bad guy but at the end of the day, all he really cares about is what Tony thinks.

Stephen found the innocent dynamic between them…endearing, to be honest. Peter looks up to the genius engineer like he’s the man who singlehandedly created the universe in one day and Tony treats the kid as…his own.

An uninterested party would easily be fooled into thinking mentor – protégé is all there is to them. In reality, it’s more of a father-figure – son dynamic than anything else. The way he sees it anyway. And familial relationships are not always rainbows and butterflies, especially when it comes to parents and kids.

Not that he would know anything about that beyond his own experience with his parents as a kid. He wasn’t the easiest teen to handle, that’s for sure. His every-day tantrums about chores and curfew and homework sometimes drove his parents nuts but they always schooled his ass in the end. Some angry outbursts on both sides are always a thing where teens are involved.

There’s something much worse to deal with than anger though.

When his parents were fuming about something he’s done, it was never easy, but few hours or a day could fix everything – he’d come off his teen high horse and apologize, do the chores and stop bitching about homework. They would apologize for yelling at him but most definitely never budged when it came to grounding him for a week and pretty much shortening his curfew to ten minutes after school.

Disappointment on the other hand, that’s a completely different story.

Seeing that in his parents’ eyes for the first time sobered him up in about one second – _actually_ sobered him up because it was 5AM and he just barged into the house after getting royally wasted on a party he was explicitly forbidden to attend. 

How he didn’t get alcohol poisoning after the barrels of vodka they’ve done is still a mystery to him. How his parents didn’t kick his drunken ass out on the street the instant was also a mystery at the time. While the hangover was enough of a punishment on its own, it really was the disappointment that haunted him for long enough to think twice about doing anything that might repeat the result.

Having that experience, he doesn’t need magic tricks or even the usual set of social skills to know exactly what’s going on here. He knows it all too well from Peter’s point of view and to an extent, his now wise adult ass understands Tony’s side too.

“So…how did Peter end up fighting the bad guy of the month in his old and inferior spider suit – your words, not mine,” he asks, not really expecting much of an answer. Tony’s expressions and gestures - while effective - can only do so much and this is hardly a texting kind of conversation.

Why he doesn’t expect any answer at all has a simpler explanation though – Tony has no reason to tell him. They’re friendly enough with each other when they leave their egos at the door but he doesn’t think they’re anywhere near talking about things that require…trust. A load of it.

Like the question he’s just asked – or the many others he decided to not even bring up. Yet. Like what in all the damn dimensions happened in Siberia.

Stephen’s never been good at people, so when Tony all but crumbles into a nearby stool and blurts an entire sentence out loud, he attributes his poor judgment to that fact alone.

“Because I took it,” he says, staring into the ground with so much shame pouring out of every pore of his being that for a second _he_ looks like the naughty misbehaving kid.

“The suit?” he asks, trying and failing to hide his surprise at the reply. Tony nods, his lips thinning into a tiny line. “For…repairs?” Tony scoffs and shakes his head. “Oh.”

Of course this wouldn’t be such a big deal if the suit had to be fixed or whatever and it just so happened that Peter would need it. He wouldn’t really put it past Tony to blame himself for that too because even with the little experience he has of Tony’s habits, blaming himself for everything and then some is the man’s absolute specialty. Everything is his fault in his books.

Only a week ago Stephen realized that the word is not an exaggeration. It’s seriously _everything_.

The Accords being a pain in everyone’s ass? His fault. Captain America acting up? His fault. The coffee machine in the common room breaking in the middle of an espresso run? His fault. Peter behaving like a teenager? His fault.

Another one of his earlier ‘people’ theories debunked – the disappointment he saw oozing out of Tony’s eyes moments ago wasn’t the parental kind of disappointment Stephen remembered. No. It matched Peter’s own and Peter was disappointed alright – not with someone else, _with himself_.

So this here is a Tony goddamn Stark, blaming himself for Peter getting hurt, blaming himself for whatever the bad guy did, blaming himself for taking the suit he built for Peter for whatever reason and on top of all that, this is him being disappointed with himself.

That’s too much shit to take in and he’s just the really bad observer here so how’s Tony channeling all that without spontaneously teleporting to the Dark Dimension is a complete mystery.

“You’re on a whole new level of genius, aren’t you?” Stephen blurts out this time and sits on the bed to face him.

Tony blinks at the floor before meeting his stare with a frown.

“Let me guess. You took the kid’s suit to…teach him a lesson? It’s your suit so it doesn’t really matter _why_ you took it but that circumstance sounds plausible given how trouble-prone the kid is…not to mention how hell-bent he was on stopping this bad guy. You got that prison address? I wasn’t kidding about the non-vengeance I am _totally_ not going to execute. Anyway! Between us geniuses, your level of stupid is really astounding sometimes.”

Only Tony can go from a frown to a squint so seamlessly.

“Okay, that’s not fair, you’re right. You are being stupid with the Roguevenger business, this…this is probably just you being you and awfully succeeding at it again. Go on, roll you eyes,” he smirks, channeling his inner Timey.

No wonder the damn stone loves doing this to him so much if his reaction is anything like Tony’s squinty glare after he’s done rolling his eyes.

“Everything’s your fault, right? You don’t need to answer, _of course_ it is. I don’t even need the Time stone to confirm that - it’s a thing with you, isn’t it? Like…some kind of…weird fetish or something. Just blame yourself for everything why don’t you?! Wong tripped on the sidewalk today and dropped his ice-cream – I bet if you were in the line of sight of the spectacle, you’d take the credit for the blame no matter how obvious it was that I made him trip. What? He insulted the Cloak and by extension me, he deserved it. See? This is how you own up to something being your fault. There’s this one very important prerequisite for you to do that though – _it has to be your fault_. Otherwise you’re just taking other people’s credit and that’s just rude of you, Doctor Stark.”

Tony opens up his mouth to maybe, just maybe reply, but as much as Stephen would like to hear him speak, he’ll actually prefer not to this time.

“Nope, this is not your fault,” he cuts in before Tony decides to talk or type or just glare at him.

** _My my, sorcerer. And you berate me for answering questions you were yet to ask? _ **

_That’s human hypocrisy for you, we’re all made of bundles of it._

** _Indeed…now stop making strangely accurate predictions, that is my forte not yours._ **

_Afraid of losing your job? Don’t be, this kind of predicting has little to do with foresight._

** _And everything to do with insight. When did that happen, sorcerer?_ **

He frowns at Timey’s ever so poignant question but instead of pondering the meaning behind it and the stone’s teasing tone of voice, he focuses back on Tony.

“It’s not your fault,” he repeats. “It’s not Peter’s fault either. Both of you have a habit of trying to do the right thing and getting into all sorts of trouble while at it but that alone doesn’t make anything your fault!” he insists and wishes he could tattoo that into both their brains in loud colors. “It’s the bad guy’s fault by the way, if making that connection is still giving you troubles. He can make his excuses but come now – what do you think a guy’s excuse for fighting a fifteen year-old in a DIY superhero costume would be?! Or hijacking a plane full of potentially dangerous tech? Robbing places, hurting people…whatever their excuse is, it’s not relevant. Now, do I need to fool-proof that explanation further or is your genius brain going to handle it as is?”

Tony’s back to blanks stares and blinking for a while, but then wheels to the side, grabbing a tablet off the table.

‘_He should have had the suit’_

“He should have and be and do a lot of things but at the end of the day, he’s still just a teenager. He’s got years and years to _learn_. And maybe even grow up, I wouldn’t know anything about that having turned out the way I did,” he tries to lighten up the mood and finds he’s still as shit at that as ever before.

So while Tony closes his eyes and shakes his head in a way that screams how little of Stephen’s words are making it through that stubborn, thick Stark skull, Stephen takes his turn rolling his eyes and jumps off the bed.

“So he didn’t have his fancy, enhanced, AI operated, better in every way suit – what lesson do you think he learnt tonight? That he needs his super fancy suit to be who he is or that he can be who he is no matter what he’s wearing? Sure, he probably wouldn’t be as banged up but we both know those were just a few bruises, nothing serious. And while you’re furiously typing that it doesn’t matter and what if it was serious and whatnot, then let me repeat myself for the last time: it’s _still_ not your fault.”

Tony takes a loud breath and the way he moves and tightly grips the tablet, it almost looks like he’s either going to break it in half or smash it against something. The floor or maybe Stephen’s head. Thankfully he just settles for erasing his previous message and typing up a new one.

‘_You think I would give a shit about whose fault it really is if he got seriously hurt_?

_Or worse_?!

_No matter who does the beating, it’s always gonna be on_ **_me_**!

_I brought him in! I made him think he can do what we do!_

_I made him ditch his date and go fight crime on Homecoming night!_ _Me_!’

Stephen takes a step forward and all but rips the tablet out of Tony’s shaky hands and matches his hard stare as he abruptly stands up. “Oh get over yourself! Last time I checked, you’re not the radioactive spider that bit him and made him into a bundle of teen energy capable of throwing a ton worth of demon ass across the room! You think he’d not be running around the city, getting himself into trouble if you didn’t bring him in on the Avengers kindergarten program? Isn’t that exactly what he’s been doing before you two met?! You gave him a suit and the idea that he can do better, that he can _be_ better so guess what?! That’s what he’s doing and guess what? He doesn’t need the suit any more than you need yours to be who _you_ are!” he nearly yells down at the stunned engineer.

Was he always so…small?

** _Were you always so tall? Ah yes, that is it._ **

He ignores the stone and deflates just enough to not look like a pissed off tall guy towering over a kicked puppy. And Tony’s a kicked puppy if Stephen’s ever seen one.

“So get off the kid’s back for saving the day after he’s just selflessly ditched the girl he’s been gushing about the past few weeks to everyone and…I don’t know, buy him lunch or something, make up and make sure he knows _exactly _how proud you are because if I see that disappointed expression on him one more time, I’ll be taking names and kicking more ass. Yours to be specific. And while you’re at it, you can also get off your own back and wipe that disappointment off your face too. You think you can save everyone, every second of every day? You can’t. That’s not a phrase, that’s a fact – I know that because I’m a doctor and you would think being a wizard doctor would change that fact but no! There are still people dying underneath my fingertips and even all my skills and all my magic can’t do anything about it! So stop worrying about the things you can’t change and stop taking people’s fault credits. There, I’m done now,” he blurts out and takes a wobbly step back, handing the tablet over to him.

Tony blinks at him, then at the tablet and also takes a step back but makes no move to take the damn thing to at least use it to repl –

“…okay.”

He’s not sure if he reels back because of the spoken word or because of the expression that settles on Tony’s face to accompany it.

The desperation is still there along with its angry and disappointed pals, but there’s something else there now, unexpected and directed all at _him_.

Awe.

Disappointment was bad but this is somehow _worse_.

Like hearing the words ‘_not your fault_’ is an entirely new concept to the man.

With a realization of his own, he widens his eyes before schooling his expression back to neutral, the surprise half directed at his own stupidity and half at his accidental genius.

Of fucking course Tony’s not used to hearing that everything is not his fault, when all he’s been hearing the past years is the exact opposite.

How could Stephen forget for one second that the former Avengers team made a habit out of it – don’t want to take responsibility? Blame it on Stark – he’ll take it instead. He’s made enough connections the past few months to know every unsavory thought he’s had about the pre-Civil War team was true.

Avengers weren’t much of a team before. If he could tell – Stephen _I’d rather work alone_ Strange – then that’s really something.

Ultron, the Accords and who knows what else. It’s all Tony’s fault and what reason would he have to dispute it when the people that would call themselves his friends and teammates only ever confirmed it?

The Cloak pulls at his hands, tugging at his fingers. He looks down with a frown, finding his hands balled into fists, gripping onto the Cloak enough to make his fingers go white. He lets go with a mumbled sorry – not that the grip would be hurting his outerwear companion but he knows how much it hates being wrinkly.

Intelligent magical artifacts just have a way of getting to him, don’t they?

Which bring up a question – is Tony Stark a magical artifact? Because something about him just…gets under his skin. Makes him say things, do things…_think_ things he normally wouldn’t.

Feel things he normally wouldn’t. Shouldn’t, really.

Like this immense anger at the thought of those fugitive bastards, those pretenders, wannabie-friends, teammates…_assholes_, just dumping all of it on Tony as if he’s some kind of universal blame dumpster that everyone can throw stuff into and kick it along the way.

Stephen takes a calming breath and puts the tablet on the bed behind him, seeing that Tony isn’t all that keen on taking it anytime soon.

_Doesn’t like being handed things_, Rhodey’s voice reminds him, his Tony tutorial proving completely spot-on.

“I’ll text you in the morning. About Peter,” he adds at Tony’s questioning eyebrow. “He’ll be fine…his date? Unsalvageable. But he’ll be fine. He’s a tough little spider.”

He counts the nod he gets in response as a victory and mirrors it.

“Alright. Just…call me if you need anything,” he puts that out there before portalling back to the Sanctum with yet another revelation to think about.

Tony _did_ call him. Not to talk about missions or the Accords or to invent another clever plot to prank Rhodey – him and his Stank T-shirt movement is going too far!

He called him about Peter. The one person in his small circle of people he really cares about that he barely trusts himself with, let alone anyone else.

Especially a magic-wielding, doctor weirdo he barely knows.

And yet, Tony _did_ call for him. Trusted him with Peter. Trusted him to drop everything he’d doing and portal to the Compound the second he read the message – which is exactly what he did.

He dropped his research, yelled at Wong to protect the Sanctum and portalled into the infirmary so fast Tony was still fiddling with the phone.

So maybe he got this all wrong. Maybe they do have the whole trust thing going on already. Otherwise, he cannot explain why would Tony do this and most of all, he doesn’t understand why _he’s_ doing it.

He’s just looking out for his new…ally.

Yep, that’s it. Maybe…possibly…a friend as well. Or something along those lines that his brain is capable of dealing with. Wong would be right up there with Christine, confirming that Stephen’s idea of the social contract that is friendship is…odd, to say the least.

But he sticks with it.

*******

*******

Few days later, Wong and his smug face are dancing around the library – Peter’s aunt found out about him being Spiderman, so Wong is celebrating his victory in all the bets that were made. And where Stephen would gladly try to foil his good mood or straight up portal him to another dimension, he just lets the man have his fun while he stares down at the newspapers, reading the headline over and over – thousands of times.

Sure, he’s _friends_ with the Avengers. Rhodey is cool, Vision knows his fair share about pesky Infinity stones, Peter is a great kid and nowhere near as annoying as Stephen would like to think…Happy and Pepper aren’t really Avengers, but he counts them in anyway.

Sure. He’s _friends_ with Tony.

So why does he feel so lost reading that headline. It’s not another alien attack or Dormammu showing his ugly face somewhere in this dimension. It’s good news – happy news. _He_ should be happy. Portal to the Compound, throw in some congratulations…be happy for his friends.

But he can’t. And it scares him like nothing ever before.

_WEDDING OF THE YEAR? TONY STARK AND PEPPER POTTS MAKE IT OFFICIAL!_


	8. Chapter 8

Tony would like to think he’s the epitome of disinterest, lying on the sofa and fiddling with the StarkPad with faked focus – but he’s not even close to that. Ever since Vision phased through the floor and brought the jolly good news into the conversation, Tony’s been conflicted between staying here to listen in on every single detail or make a run for it, hide in the quietest corner of the Compound and drink through the panic.

He’s been so busy with vacating the Tower, planning the wedding and smoothing things up with Peter that he _almost_ forgot the Roguevengers are still a thing.

T’Challa was all too happy to throw in a reminder when he visited Wakanda last week to perfect his nanoparticle tech and ever since then, he’s right back to where he started.

Right back to where he’s been ever since the civil war – on edge, and this conversation is not helping it one bit.

“You sure you wanna go? Alone? The last time you two were in a room together, she shipped you off to China through a hole in the floor,” Rhodey voices his concern, unknowingly – or maybe knowingly echoing Tony’s own.

“I have thought about it for many days. I believe I should go…even if everyone has been telling me not to so far.”

“For obvious reasons,” Rhodey waves in the general direction of the lounge, where the hell hole is covered with just a few layers of concrete. “You gotta do what you gotta do, I get it. But someone could tag along, just to be safe, you know?”

Tony hides his cringe behind the tablet and for the first time in months he wants to _scream_. Out loud. Scream and scream until everyone in the building understands that absolutely no one should be flying off to Europe to meet with Wanda Maximoff. _No one_.

He dealt with a lot of stuff over the months that followed the fallout. The death of his parents being the most recent highlight.

It took an undisclosed amount of alcohol, sleepless nights, tears and one infuriating wizard for him to keep it together whenever anything Barnes-related is mentioned.

Princess Shuri was all excited and happy that her plan for his recovery is working that she paid little attention to his quickening breathing and nervous tapping of his fingers.

But he didn’t panic, like he surely would have few months ago. He didn’t explode into rage, suit up and go bombard the little hut village outside of the city where he knew Barnes was chilling at.

He just nodded, smiled and eventually commended the prodigal scientist for her hard work.

It was irrational to blame Barnes for anything but it’s not like _someone_ gave him the courtesy of time and space to figure it out before having to face the man.

The news of Barnes and his recovery didn’t rattle him as much as he’d expect – he’s actually glad they were able to unfreeze the guy and help him. After what he’s read in the HYDRA files available on the Winter Soldier project, he’s not sure if _he’d_ be able to become at least a barely functioning human again – not that Tony’s ever been one to begin with. And yet, there’s Barnes, doing all the work and fighting his inner demons to do exactly that.

Barnes he can deal with. Clint and Lang are keeping themselves in check and out of trouble and he doesn’t really know Wilson well enough to give a damn – so he can deal with them too.

It’s the remaining selection of the Rogues is what haunts him day and night.

Natasha and her fake sympathies. There when she needs them to be, gone when it’s suddenly inconvenient. He’d lie if he said it didn’t hurt, the way she could so casually pretend to be his friend. He could easily forgive her, really. Given her past, he _could_ understand why she’s this way. But he’ll do no such a thing until _Bruce_ does. Until then, he will be keeping an extra eye out for more daggers about to stab him in the back from her.

Wanda he can’t even think about most days. He didn’t say a word when she somehow ended up on the Avengers roster after Ultron. Not. A. Word. He could have asked who’s idiotic idea was it to hire a HYDRA operative that was more than happy to mindfuck people just days before…but he kept his mouth shut and just high-tailed it out of there. He wanted to be wrong about her, for Vision’s sake, and now there’s a mile deep hole in the floor that proved him right instead.

Rogers…he has no thoughts to spare on him. Mostly because any such thought brings out vivid and terrifying memories of freezing air, cold metal and even colder betrayal. Which then turns him into an anxious mess so no. No need to think about him. Ever.

It’s difficult to ignore them though. If the press is not bringing them up, it’s Fury or Ross…or what’s left of his friends, telling him what a stupid idiot he’s being, trying to help them.

Stephen in particular roasted him about his decision to lobby the UN to drop all charges against them. The guy didn’t even meet the Rogues, but sometimes it feels like he’s more pissed off about them than Tony is…or should be.

That’s the thing – he _should_ be pissed and he _should_ be doing nothing to help them out but at the end of the day he knows what’s heading their way. As vague as the threat is, it’s not something they can handle alone.

Even with the wizards on board, the Earth will need everyone she can get to defend her. If anything, when the day is saved he can finally put this all behind him. Scrap the armor, build that damn cottage in the middle of the woods and leave the Rogues be someone else’s problem for the rest of his days.

He’s too tired to fight. Too tired in general. Just one more battle – the big one. And if there’s still Earth left after it’s over, he will rest.

Would be nice to find out what that means after over forty years of his roller-coaster of a life. Now if only Rhodey would stop pep-talking Vision about his imminent meeting with Scarlet Voldemort.

“Just don’t go off the grid then. She tries anything? FRIDAY will dispatch us in a millisecond and we’ll probably be there in less than that. Seriously, have you seen Stank’s new armor?! Yo dude…that thing’s rad. It can go to space!”

“Did you just call Vision ‘yo dude’?”

Tony sits up to look over the edge of the sofa at the newcomer so fast it makes his head spin.

“Yo, wizard dude!” Rhodey smirks.

Stephen’s masterful cringe only intensifies as he shakes his head and walks up to the sofa. “You’re spending too much time with Peter.”

“Says the dude wearing his meme T-shirt.”

So that’s what rang the alarm bells in Tony’s head. It’s not Stephen’s presence – he does tend to stop by the Compound between surgeries and his beloved afternoons in the library.

It’s the lack of the Cloak and the whole Asian medieval get-up he wears underneath it that makes Tony do a double-take at the approaching wizard. Not only that, he is actually wearing the plain gray T-shirt Peter made for him – with the ‘alien’ meme guy on it, just instead of “ALIENS” it’s captioned with “MAGIC”.

Tony can totally get behind that casual look. In fact he can even…

He frowns, bringing up his hands to massage his temples at the sudden onset of a headache.

What was he thinking about again? Ah yes, the meme shirt. Good job, Peter.

“Don’t even go there, StankMaster69. Oh I know all about that eBay profile where you’re selling those ‘fanmade’ Stank shirts at,” Stephen stops right above Tony, squinting at Rhodey.

“Heeeey now, all the profits go to charity! The Maria Stark Foundation to be specific!” Rhodey defends his conduct, seeking approval from Tony but he’s feeling petty this afternoon so he just joins Stephen at glaring. “Oh come on! They’re fun! You like them!”

Tony does but that never –

“That never stopped him from waging a meme counter-attack and I’ll have you know it sure won’t stop Peter. Something tells me,” Stephen breaks into an evil grin, “you haven’t seen his newest War Machine meme design, have you?”

“His WHAT?!”

“Ah yes. Don’t worry, you will like them too. I absolutely love the bold pink one. Never thought I’d say that about anything that has Hello Kitty all over it,” he cringes but sends a quick wink Tony’s way.

“You’re kidding, right?!” Rhodey stares at them, unblinking.

“I can’t decide which one is my favorite yet. _War Sean Bean_ is great but _War Smoll Bean_ is more meme-y. _War Sardine_ is hilarious, you should see how Peter draws fish, it’s the cutest thing ever but _War Sunscree_n has warmer colors.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me!”

“_War Dry Clean_ is a bit meh and I’m not sure which is more troll, _War Ravine_ or _War Unseen_…but I definitely do know what Tony’s pre-order’s gonna be. _War Caffeine_ and _War Protein_, the kid absolutely nailed those. Your head as a coffee bean? _Priceless_.”

By the time Stephen even gets to Caffeine, Tony is a suffocating mess collapsed on the sofa, wheezing with laughter and crying into the side pillow.

“Ah yes! _War Latrine_, that’s my favorite,” Stephen adds with a completely straight face which only makes things worse for Tony as he now has to battle snot coming out of his nose too.

He can’t see much through all the tears, but he sees Vision smiling as well and Rhodey is just a speechless heap of flesh, sunken into the opposite sofa for a good minute.

“Wh…that…I’m _Iron Patriot_ though,” Rhodey announces, grasping at the last straws of hope.

“You’re _what_?” Stephen blurts out and joins Tony in laughing. “That’s…equally ridiculous as all the War Machine ones! Not sure what would rhyme with patriot though…chariot? Naaah, of course! Iron _Idiot_! Hold on, I have to text that to him right away,” he whips out his phone and starts typing while chuckling to himself.

“That’s not even…it doesn’t rhyme! It’s not funny either – you!” Rhodey deflates and resorts to pouting at Stephen. “I hate you.”

Tony is one hundred percent deaded on the sofa at that point and only manages to raise a thumbs up at Stephen.

“What? Can’t handle the taste of your own medicine, Colonel?” Stephen smirks and it’s just so…him. Tony likes it when he’s being _so him_.

One could say Tony simply li – what’s with the headache today?! He doesn’t remember drinking last night. What was he thinking about just now?

He doesn’t remember that either. Probably wasn’t important anyway.

“You alright, Tones?” Rhodey changes the subject, as the clever cookie he is. Nobody in their right mind wants to delve into an argument with Stephen. Especially if it’s a banter-y one.

When in his element, the guy can easily keep up with Tony. And he likes that about him too. He wouldn’t admit it of course, he’s got a reputation to maintain and admitting someone is capable of keeping up with the Banter Overlord is unacceptable. But he can appreciate having someone like that on the team that’s not Rhodey.

The team. Funny how that word is slowly making its way into his vocabulary now that the Avengers actually _are_ a team. Or the closest to a team they’ve ever been.

They train every other day, exploring just how well they can use their combined abilities together; they have official meetings on Saturday’s to discuss whatever the UN has on their minds at the time – which lasts for about ten minutes before the official meeting turns into a movie night; they even meet up like this in the Compound – at random, no crisis, no calls for assemble.

Just because they feel like it. Because they’re _friends_, not just some reluctant participants of a group project.

Most importantly – there’s no fighting. In any sense of the word.

There’s plenty of banter and _some_ arguing but it’s the good kind. The _I’ll give you my point of view, you give me yours and we’ll work it out somehow _kind of arguing.

How refreshing.

When he first visited the New York Hogwarts, he half expected to wind up in an all-out magical battle…somehow. His past experiences were sort of biased towards that outcome. Instead, he found the wizards are just a bunch of tea-loving bookworms. Dangerous as fuck when they need to be, but harmless otherwise. Stephen sure wasn’t kidding about the strict set of rules they have to follow.

Wong gave him a few examples of what happens when they break the rules and he’s got to admit they’re pretty damn solid. They have a simple philosophy – you cannot use your powers the right way, you shouldn’t have those powers. He can get behind that.

All in all, it results in zero wizards casually misusing their powers and facing no repercussions. 

Also refreshing.

He shrugs, waving Rhodey’s question away. There’s nothing that couldn’t be fixed with a good cup of c –

“Coffee?” Stephen plops down on the sofa next to him, a steaming cup of said beverage in his hand.

Why couldn’t his entire exposure to magic begin like _this_?!

He reaches towards the cup, making grabby hands at it when Stephen leans away. He looks up, ready to glare at the teasing wizard but instead finds a look of utter shock in his amber eyes, staring at Tony as if he just turned into a pink unicorn or something.

Stephen blinks and carefully offers the cup back to him, mouth agape. Tony takes it with a suspicious squint, but when a couple sniffs confirm that there is nothing unseemly in the cup – only coffee, blacker than the night, exactly the way he likes it – he shrugs again, takes a sip and then holds it in his hands, enjoying the warmth.

He wouldn’t put it past Stephen to try and prank him with cocoa instead of coffee…or worse. Glancing sideways, the wizard is still blinking at him with the same stunned expression, so maybe Tony shouldn’t dismiss it just yet. Maybe there’s something on the bottom of the cup or he used coke instead of sugar.

His MIT days taught him all the fun and not so fun coffee pranks, alright?

“You uh…sure you’re okay?” Rhodey asks and now he’s seriously wondering if he didn’t turn into that unicorn.

Tony raises the coffee cup with a grin, believing it to be enough of an answer. There really is nothing coffee couldn’t make better. The fact the damn wizard knows that…or rather knows _him_ well enough to know that is…_strange_.

He smiles wider into the cup, the warmth he feels definitely not being just from the cof – maybe there _is_ something coffee can’t fix because that headache decides to spike up and down again.

Headaches don’t do that. Migraine? He didn’t have one since Pepper became the CEO of SI. Fuck…he’s just getting old, isn’t he?! What was he thinking about just now?

He doesn’t remember.

Tony glances back at Stephen to send him a grateful nod and for a second there, he bears witness to a look he’s never seen on the man’s face before. Or anybody else’s, really. Maybe Pepper. Rhodey comes close enough too. But on Stephen’s face it’s…different.

Almost as if stars just exploded in his eyes, his usual smirky smile forgotten, leaving behind just a gentle upward tug of lips and somehow he directs that all at Tony. It’s not the shock from before, not the _Tony just turned into a unicorn wtf_ look.

It’s like Tony just waved stars and planets into existence or something equally impossibly amazing that would make the wizard doctor look at him with so much awe and appreciation and _lo_ –

…

He nods his thanks, wondering why Stephen avoids his eyes all of a sudden and turns back to look into the pitch black deliciousness that is his coffee, frowning at the returning headache.

Definitely getting old.

[by Nukternl <3](https://nukternl.tumblr.com/)


	9. Chapter 9

The rays of warming spring sunshine seep into the Sanctum through the circle window and they almost make Stephen forget the chill of the past winter months. At least he wishes the chill had everything to do with the winter and absolutely nothing to do with…anything else.

Wong was certainly not making it any better with his constant wannabie-subtle remarks.

_“Going to the Compound already, huh? Wonder who just returned from Germany that you suddenly need to visit.”_

_“Are you wearing that math meme shirt again? What, goatees are not enough now, you gotta resort to couples T-shirts?”_

_“Wow, did you actually style your hair? And you smell nice, too. Say hi to _everyone_ in the Compound.”_

_“Is that a StarkPhone? My my…Steve Jobs must be devastated. Bet he was your type, too.”_

It’s all in good fun – at least Wong believes it to be. Stephen isn’t exactly doing much to make him believe otherwise. He’s been happily in denial so far and if he has any say in it, he will live in that state for the rest of his days.

** _Might be a long, long time, sorcerer._ **

“Or a very, very short time,” he mumbles, staring at the same page of…what is this book anyway?! He smacks it shut and discards it onto the windowsill. “Time for work anyway,” he adds and portals to the hospital. One easy surgery, then the weapon training session in Kamar-Taj and then…movie night at the Compound.

** _Shall I remind you that it is I who decides what time it is?_ **

“Enlighten me then, oh wise pebble,” he rolls his eyes and changes into his doctor clothes with a spell.

** _I would not dwell too much on work today._ **

“Whatever you say, fortune cookie,” he sighs and bursts out of his office and into the busy halls of Metro General.

“Doctor Strange,” Christine seamlessly joins him from around the corner, matching his quick pace. “You’re early, Mr. Hollen is still at prep.”  
“Good, we’ll have time to go over the operation again,” he replies, ignoring her mischievously pursed lips.

“Hardly much to go over but sure…you only did this kind of surgery, what? Two…three hundred times?”

“So?” he stops, folding his arms over his chest. “Doesn’t matter how many times I did it…anything can go wrong, anytime.”

“You’re right of course…even if you’re just deflecting whatever’s on your mind. Again,” she mumbles and starts walking again, glancing at his startled recovery over her shoulder. “If it’s Wong, I’ll stop by the Sanctum next week…bring my clipboard and the extra stabby pencils.”

“It’s not Wong,” he says before he can stop himself.

“Of course it isn’t. Me and Wong have regular chats and he knows if he gets on your nerves too much I will sneak into his room and burn his signed Beyoncé poster collection. Just thought you might indirectly confirm it’s _someone_…which you did, so spill.”

“So, what are your plans for the weekend? Still dating the…what’s his name? Dentist from downtown, was it?”

“Wow. That…must have been the worst changing of subjects in any conversation ever. Now you really have my attention. The last time you were this serious about not talking about something, you were hopping onto a plane to Kathmandu the next day and becoming a wizard.”

“Master of the - ”

“A wizard. Peter says so.”

“When did Peter even…never mind. Of course he comes here too.”

“You could say he _swings by_,” she grins.

Stephen can’t help but flail at that. “_Of course_ he revealed his not really secret identity to you as well. Did he tell all the nurses too or just the ones that were on call that day? The doctors? Patients?”

“Just me. I _think_. And don’t think you’re talking over that serious topic you so un-smoothly tried to get out of.”

“Work first,” he opens the door leading to the OR, holding it for her with a mocking smirk.

“That’s also not going to work. I’m not nearly old enough to just forget about things after two hours focusing on surgery,” she returns the smirk, masterfully accompanied by raised eyebrows and walks ahead.

Usually, he wouldn’t mind talking things over with Christine. He would in fact seek her advice out, with her being the epitome of functioning humans that he knows of. If it’s a people problem, chances are Christine could solve it for him ten different ways over dinner and a bottle of wine.

This is a people problem. It’s a _Stephen_ problem. It’s a cosmic level of fuckery problem and the thing is, Stephen doesn’t need Christine or anyone else to spell it out for him.

Somewhere in the depths of his mind, hidden away even from the Time stone, he knows exactly what’s happening and why it’s happening and he knows exactly how completely fucked he is.

He takes a deep breath and walks in after her.

*******

The operation goes well, just like the three hundred before and for just little over an hour, Stephen can forget about all his inner turmoil. During surgery, there’s just the patient, the nurses and the playlist of past and present hits.

‘_First things first I'ma say all the words inside my head, I'm fired up and tired of the way that things have been, oh ooh, the way that things have been, oh ooh_ ~’

“Imagine Dragons – Believer, last month’s album Evolve,” he says, paying more attention to his finishing stitches than to the song itself.

** _I knew you would like it. The song._ **

Only then, when he calls the operation a success and lets the nurses wheel the man to post-op he recognizes the song for what it really is.

It came out just weeks ago, the whole album a definite success, if Stephen thinks so himself. _Few weeks ago_ wasn’t the first time he’s heard the song. It was that one future Imagine Dragons song Timey sang to him well over a year ago.

Completely out of tune and nothing quite as exquisite as the actual Imagine Dragons version…and yet, it was one and the same.

After he cleans up, grabs a coffee and lands himself into an armchair in the doctors’ lounge, he can’t help but feel like the future is catching up with him.

Already.

“Fine,” Christine materializes on the couch opposite of him with a gigantic paper cup of latte. “You don’t want to tell me, then don’t. It’s not like I’m going to beat it out of you or anything…yet. But Wong is worried about your lack of annoying banter – which makes two of us, Peter is complaining that he barely sees you anymore and Tony is catching onto whatever this is, too!”

“Tony?!” he blurts out after almost choking on the word. “Wong I understand, Peter stopping by here for whatever reason, sure. But how in all the darkest dimensions are you having weekly chit-chats with Tony Stark?!”

Christine watches him with something akin to…interest…and that’s just never good. “Chit-chats is probably not the word and that’s not what I’m doing anyway. We’ve met, obviously. He’s spent a lot of time here last year, remember? Speaking of who also spent a lot of time here last year…”

“Ugh…great. What’s Rhodey up to now then?”

“Yes. That would also be correct but no. I mean Pepper of course!”

“You talk with Pepper?” he frowns at her blank face.

“Uhhh…yes? Just once a week over coffee. _Since last year_!”

“Oh. I knew that!” he defends himself in complete futility. He probably did know that, to be fair. Before he tried his best to _not_ know anything Pepper Potts related.

Like the wedding coming up this summer.

“You sure did…can’t even tell if you’re just messing with me or not anymore,” she sighs. “Well, whenever you want to share with the class, the class is ready to hear it.”

“Okay. How about…neeeeveeeer?” he drawls it out, regretting it after spotting the disappointed glint in Christine’s eyes.

She’s not the gossipy type, she really just wants to know because _she cares_. About him. Vishanti know he sometimes wishes that she’d stop.

Because caring is contagious and he’s got no immunity and no vaccine.

“Fine,” she repeats her earlier statement and eyes whoever just walks into the lounge. “Arthur,” she nods at him and Stephen can’t really be bothered to even look at the newcomer and just settles for a muttered “Hm” as a greeting.

“Hey Christine…oh. Hi. I thought…never mind,” he fumbles, doing all sorts of double takes at Stephen, which finally gets his attention.

“What?” he squints at him, still having no idea who it is. _People_. _Names_. Waste of brain cell capacity.

“Nothing um…just thought you might be…somewhere else?”

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?!” he sputters, almost offended at the blatant dismissal of his presence.

“Hey, no need to get all worked up…just thought you’d be all up in the Avengers business right now.”

“The Av…,” Stephen pauses, frowning. He searches his pocket for his phone and fumbles with it hurriedly to see if there are any missed calls or messages.

There’s nothing though. The Avengers and the sorcerers have his pager number too because if he’s in a surgery, he’d never be able to respond to emergencies with the phone two rooms away.

“It’s been all over the news for an hour now,” Doctor Whoever shrugs. “Something about Captain America spotted in New York…the whole city’s in an uproar and – “

All he hears is Captain America and he’s by the door in a millisecond without even using any magic. “Update me on Hollen later!” he calls after Christine and bolts out of the lounge, searching for a quiet place to portal away.

He was joking about banning the Roguevengers from the continent and now he hugely regrets never bothering to find a way to actually do it. He would be able to track Maximoff if she was in this part of the world but steroided super soldiers are a bit out of his usual tracking league.

Little effort and some unusual tricks and he could do it. But the Compound first. He needs to see what the plan is, he needs to know there’s not already a battle going on, he need to make sure Tony’s okay, he needs to –

“Uhhh…you okay there?”

– slow down.

“Yiss! Gotcha!”

“You…hold on now! That’s not fair, I was distracted! You…cheating little b…spider,” Rhodey pouts, throwing the controller on the coffee table.

“Oh hey Doctor Wizard! You wanna join in?! We’re playing some zombie game…what’s it called?”

“Dying light…speaking of dying, you look like you’ve seen a horde of zombies or ghosts or something,” Rhodey stares him down.

Trying to get his breathing under control, Stephen looks around the common room to confirm what he’s seeing. No emergency battle planning, no battle already in progress – other than the one raging with the zombies on TV – and Tony is not only just fine, he’s chilling at the bar with Vision, playing…poker?

“Are we starting the movie night earlier then?” Peter beams at him, dodging Rhodey’s elbow jab.

Since he fails to wipe the alarm off his face, even Vision frowns and puts down the cards, sharing a concerned look with Tony.

“What’s wrong?” Rhodey stands up while Peter shuts the game down.

“Wh…_what’s wrong_?! Shouldn’t I be asking _you_ that?! There’s Captain America apparently running around the city somewhere and not only am I the last to know but nobody seems to be conc – _why are you not concerned about that_?!”

The worried looks from the Avengers deflate, with only Tony still looking mildly on edge.

“See? This is how fake news work!” Rhodey glances at Peter, shaking his head. “Didn’t think you were one to watch FOX news, doc.”

“It was false alarm,” Vision explains, probably able to pick up on Stephen’s blood pressure being close to exploding. “I take it some media are not quite aware of that yet?”

“_As expected, some believe that the insurances of it being a hoax are also a hoax and keep spreading misinformation. I’m on it, boss_,” FRIDAY informs them, her voice as bored as usual. “_People posting photoshopped pictures of the Roguevengers in New York on Instagram with today’s time stamps are extremely unhelpful for my efforts though_.”

Tony lets out an exasperated sigh and rolls his eyes, attacking the nearby tablet’s keyboard immediately.

“_Sure, boss._ _I will let you know if the situation gets critical. The press conference might then be a good idea_.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, man. We didn’t realize the thing exploded like that. Tony made it pretty clear on Twitter that it’s bullshit but…yeah. They see a buff blonde dude with a blue jacket on the streets and suddenly it’s Roguevenger pandemic in New York,” Rhodey walks up to him with an apologetic look.

Stephen blinks at them for few moments too many and with a heavy exhale he brings up his phone and angry-speed-dials Christine’s number.

“_Steph –_ ?”

“_Who_ was that douchebag in the lounge again?”

“_St –_ “

“I want a name, you called him by a name so text it to me. Now. I’m about to end that man’s whole career!”

**_You are _way_ ahead of that meme, sorcerer. _**

“_Let me guess – there’s no Captain America in town_.”

He ignores them both and starts pacing around the room. “What kind of an idiot, brainless, thoughtless imbecile – an utter buffoon! Spreads gossip around like it’s World War 3 outside?! His name, Christine. Ohhhh hooooo, the things I will do to him…is sending people to the Dark Dimension still outlawed? Wait, _I’m_ the Sorcerer Supreme! I’ll _make_ it legal…just this once!”

“_Of course you will_.”

“You think I’m joking? Well then, don’t you dare give me that offended look of yours when you find out the guy is spreading rumors about inter-dimensional demons later this week! If he survives, that is!”

“_How about you focus on the positive here – Captain America is not in town. Sounds like good news to me_.”

“Right, so you want me to just what now? Chill?! Nonono, first I will grab that guy by his stethoscope, put it in his ears, then YELL AS LOUD AS I CAN INTO IT, and _then_ I will – ”

The phone is suddenly yanked out of his hand, making him dumbly stare at his empty fingers while the thief clears his throat.

“Hi, Christine,” he hears Tony speak and whirls around because _he hears Tony speak_. “Hm. Uhuh. Ye_p_. Will do. Bye, Christine,” Tony all but sings into the phone, ends the call and hands it back over to Stephen with an innocent wink. “Done?” he adds and just about blows Stephen’s mind with the words spilling out of his mouth almost…effortlessly.

They’re not though – effortless. It takes a lot for them to even make it close to Tony’s vocal chords, let alone make it all the way.

Before he ever allows his mind to go there, he grabs the phone and rolls his eyes. “Done? Nowhere near. I will – ”

“Play poker with us,” Vision interrupts him and it’s not a question or even a suggestion. It’s a blatant command.

“Exactly,” Tony nods, sending the android a thumbs up.

“I have to go back to the hospital,” he deflects, not sure if he needs more time to shake off the adrenaline or just get as far away from this _talking_ and _smiling_ Tony as possible.

“_Not according to your schedule you don’t_,” FRIDAY busts his cover.

“It’s settled then!” Rhodey joins in the bandwagon and all but drags him to the oval bar table. “Yo kid, wanna learn poker?”

“Texas Hold’em?!” Peter beams, already sitting down by the table.

“Ugh…you’re just going to cheat with your spider senses again, aren’t you?! You should have seen him playing UNO…tryhard,” Rhodey squints at him, but Peter is too busy watching Vision’s near-pro casino shuffle.

With a huff, he sits next to Peter and makes no more protests. Mainly because all protests are futile once Peter is involved.

Either that or it’s Tony’s hand gently squeezing his shoulder as the engineer passes by and sits back on his previous spot next to Vision.

He would deny both.

*******

** **

** **

*******

Stephen should probably not enjoy messing with the two Asgardian demi-gods as much as he does. He can only blame it on their _very enjoyable_ reactions.

“I’ve been falling…for _twenty minutes_!” Loki shouts after falling face-first onto the Sanctum floor.

“Good. I would have words with your brother now,” Stephen tells Thor.

“Wha - ?” is all the God of Thunder manages before he is dropped into an empty portal instead.

Loki witnesses the scene, scrambling to his feet and fumbling with his daggers. “Huh. Did you just…never mind, witch! Return my brother at once and send us on our way or I will - ”

Stephen rolls his eyes and teleports them to the library. “I don’t have time for pleasantries. Feel free to try and attack me but I am not above dropping you back to that portal and forgetting all about you. Forever,” he warns the now slightly confused Asgardian, comfortably seated in the armchair opposite of him. “In your immortal case, that would be a _very _long time to be falling in the void, wouldn’t it?” he adds with a smirk.

Loki glares at him one more moment before sheathing his daggers and putting his feet on the coffee table, really making himself comfortable now.

Maybe Stephen _should_ drop and forget him anyway.

“Well? What is it you want, witch?”

“Simple piece of information,” Stephen replies, returning to sip onto his cup of tea and ignoring Loki’s chosen way to address him. For now. “Five years ago you led an alien invasion onto Earth, using not one but two different Infinity stones. You…_procured_ the Tesseract from SHIELD here on Earth and it is now safely stored on Asgard. So my question is – how did you come by the Scepter?”

Loki cringes at the mention of the invasion and by the time Stephen gets to the Scepter, his expression is nothing but sour. “The Scepter was created by the Chitauri as a means to - ”

“Not what I asked,” Stephen interrupts him, his hand tapping an impatient pattern on the side of the armchair.

“…as a means to house and make use of the Mind stone,” Loki continues regardless, matching Stephen’s glare. “The Chitauri first used it to defend _themselves_ against an invasion of their own, many decades ago. They lost and the Scepter was forfeited to their conqueror, who they now serve and who…_gifted_ the Scepter to me, so that Earth would meet the same fate.”

“Does this conqueror have a name?” Stephen presses on.

“Oh he has many names, none that would reach this corner of the universe. Yet. He seems rather occupied elsewhere at the moment.”

“Doing what, exactly?”

“I would not know. Returning to him with a failed mission and the Scepter lost would not be a very smart move on my part,” he grins in an unsettling way.

“He had his eyes set on Earth before…so once he stops being occupied elsewhere…?”

“It would be safe to assume his vision would once again settle onto this pathetic planet, yes.”

“Why? Just to conquer us? Is that it?”

Loki sighs, long and flustered. “You ask too much of his one-time, unwilling servitor! He enjoys conquering worlds as far as I can tell. He enjoys murdering other civilizations by the millions, only ever keeping the useful and worthy around to serve him and his purpose. What that purpose is – that you should ask him yourself, witch.”

** _I like this one._ **

_Of course _you_ would. Birds of a feather and all that._

** _I like him for the very same reason I like you – he is not boring. Uncommon occurrence in those who lived for as long as he had. Uncommon might soon turn rarer still, even with mortals such as you. _ **

_Your idea of fun is twisted at best._

** _A common trait for us that had seen the universe spring to life. Everything tends to turn mundane…after some time. Mortality, in its own way, is a gift. Eternity is a long time for any being, even such as I, to exist._ **

_You are time, as you so often like to remind me. So you’re basically saying that you’re getting bored and it’s all your fault._

** _Somewhat. Thankfully, even time comes to its end, one day._ **

Stephen ponders the meaning behind those words but he’s unlikely to be able to decipher Timey’s cryptic messages anytime soon. Not in his lifetime, really.

“Very well then. Tell me his name and I shall send you and your brother on your way,” he nods at Loki and discards his cup of tea.

“As I said – he has many names,” Loki says, his twisted grin falling at the edges. “Most commonly known as the Great or…_Mad _Titan. The Destroyer of worlds and the Conqueror of the weak. His true name, for those who dare speak it, is Thanos – the Almighty, son of A’Lars and the Dark Lord of the Black Order.”

“And Wong laughs at _me_ about titles…,” he scoffs but carefully stores each title in his memory for later. Perhaps he can find more specific rumors about this…Thanos…throughout the dimensions. Preferably before he decides to focus back on Earth.

“I have given you your answers, witch! Now - ” he stands up but Stephen is already mid-wave into dropping Thor from the portal.

“Thanks. Go meet your father and be advised to return to Asgard immediately after,” he tells Loki, specifically. “If I find you loitering around or ever returning uninvited, I will be lot less hospitable,” he adds and before either can complain or retort, he portals them to Norway to meet with Odin.

“Was that Loki?” Wong sneaks into the library, taking the newly freed seat by the coffee table.

“The one and only.”

“Any particular reason you didn’t sound a global alarm?”

“What for? He’s with Thor and without the Scepter and an alien army at his back, Loki is hardly a threat.”

“Said no one ever,” Wong squints at him.

“I could handle him. I _can _handle him, in case he really is planning something unseemly. We had a fairly civil chat, actually.”

“Are you _sure_ that was Loki?”

Stephen ignores the quip, frowning in thought instead. “Have you ever heard the name Thanos?”

“Tha-what? Is that a person or a thing?”

“A person. A titan, to be more specific.”

“A magical titan?”

Stephen rolls his eyes. “I don’t think so…but he did possess the Scepter, for a time. He’s the one behind the invasion in 2012.”

“Ah. I can ask around Kamar-Taj if you want? Task some apprentices with research?” he offers, letting professionalism slip in for a moment.

“Please do,” Stephen nods and writes down all the many titles the man has.

_Dark Lord of the Black Order_? Is that really a thing or did Thor smuggle the Harry Potter books onto Asgard and Loki used that to mess with him?

“Also,” Wong clears his throat, “_any particular reason_ you missed the movie night yesterday? Peter complained,” he adds when Stephen’s eyes snap up to meet his innocent stare.

“I’m busy. Not to mention the _Alien_ is not exactly something I need to see for the second time.”

“And last week?”

“Emergency surgery. Besides…_Maze Runner_? What kinda movie is that?! I’m not wasting two hours of my life watching teenagers run in mazes, is that seriously Hollywood’s’ idea of entertainment?!”

“And the week before that?”

“_Fast and Furious_? Nooooo, thank you.”

“_And the week b -_ ”

“Your point?!” Stephen barks at him, the Cloak shrinking around his shoulders as it often does when he gets…emotional.

“Nothing,” he shrugs. “Just wondering when you’re turning _this_ in,” he reaches for a dusty piece of paper through a portal, picking it up from its designated place at the bottom of the Cauldron of Cosmos. “I remember you saying something about filling it in and giving it to Tony in person…_on the next movie night_. Funny how you’ve missed every single one after that,” he waves the damn paper in front of his face until Stephen snatches it from him.

“Nonya,” he mumbles like the five-year old he is and hides the piece of paper within his robes.

“Fine. Just don’t expect _me_ to explain to Tony why he still doesn’t have an answer from you…it’s been months, Strange. At least have the damn courtesy to reply,” Wong shakes his head and leaves, the bitter taste of disappointment lacing his words.

Stephen lets out a breathy groan and hits his head against the back of the armchair. It’s not like him to postpone things. Procrastination goes against everything he’s learnt since high-school and even though he sometimes falls prey to it anyway, he wouldn’t just…outright ignore something important.

The first and last time he really did that was after the accident. His mindset was all kinds of fucked up back then so he put a lot of things on hold in his desperate search for a cure. From Christine all the way to basic hygiene.

He fishes for the crumpled paper and stares at the elegant, golden printed message on it.

A simple invitation. A tick box for _yes_, a tick box for _no_, a tick box for _plus one_.

His car accident sending him spiraling downward to his all time low is one thing, but a fucking _wedding invitation_?!

** _Anything your troubled mind wishes to share?_ **

“There’s nothing to share!” he barks at the stone and magics up a pen. “See?” he proudly presents the filled out invitation. “Done. Now both you and Wong can stop pestering me about this.”

** _Interesting._ **

“What?!” he flails his hands and before he can change his mind, he sends the invitation back to Tony’s expectant hands with a spell.

** _Also interesting._ **

“As I said, there’s nothing to talk about…_nothing_,” he insists, knowing his dilemma doesn’t have any other solution.

He’s made his choice. The last thing he needs is for Timey to smear it across his face now that…now that nothing. _Nothing_ is going on.

** _Denial doesn’t suit you, sorcerer. _ **

“I am _not _in - ”

** _Why would you not attend the auspicious event, then? If there is nothing to talk about as you say, then you have no reason to refuse the invitation. _ **

Fuck. That’s what he gets for doing stuff before thinking about it. He only had…two months to think about it. _Fuck_…

“Second week in August? Doesn’t work for me…I doubt they will reschedule just for me,” he adds with a scoff.

** _Even if I were to believe such a blatant lie, you would also have no reason to send your reply with a spell instead of delivering it in person…unless you are too busy sitting here of course._ **

Why is he even trying to outsmart an ancient artifact?! An ancient artifact with mastery of time, no less. Stephen can fool himself into believing his lies and excuses but Timey sees through him as easily as it sees into the future. 

The damn pebble is right. If this was nothing, Stephen would not only deliver his reply in person but he would most certainly attend the wedding.

Now he really has no excuses.

** _Why do humans enjoy torturing themselves so? That is one part of your nature I am yet to understand. _ **

“Why do _you_ enjoy torturing humans so? Or is that just me?”

** _If that is what you wish to believe instead of admitting the truth. Until such time comes, I will leave you to your denial, human._ **

“Oh wonderful. Might even get some peace and quiet then,” Stephen rolls his eyes and portals to the hospital. While busy with patients and surgeries, he can at least safely pretend the stone’s audible disappointment doesn’t affect him at all. Or Wong’s, or Christine’s…or Tony’s.

If denial is the only way out of this suffocating feeling he can’t get rid of since…he doesn’t even want to admit to when that actually happened. Denial it is then. What other options does he have? It’s not like he can –

~_If I could turn back time, if I could find a way_…~

Stephen almost stabs the poor man in his brain when the song cuts into the middle of Rag’n’Bone Man’s ‘_Skin’_.

_If this is your version of leaving me to my denial, I will find a way to destroy you if it’s the last thing I do._

** _Why sorcerer, I thought you have nothing to discuss. Surely the lyrics mean nothing to you then._ **

He ignores the stone out of spite for days, delving hands deep into the work he loves so much.

So much he would sacrifice anything to be able to do it. That was his choice and he does not regret it.

_He does not regret it_.

It becomes a mantra, a lifeline he reaches out for when he feels like screaming or crying or…chugging Timey into the Couldron of Cosmos – and actually using the damn trash can of a relic to do its job.

He does not regret it…even if it’s the biggest lie he’s ever made himself believe.

*******

** **

** **

*******


	10. Chapter 10

Three weeks after Loki tries sneaking past the Earth’s defenses, the world comes slowly crashing down around Stephen.

Only it’s not the world yet – just a man.

One he’s been hearing a great deal about, especially from Tony. An angry green guy wielding seven doctorates and the honorary title of Science Bro.

Today, he’s the harbinger of the doom they’ve been trying to prepare for since the Avenger-Sorcerer alliance happened.

Stephen stares down at the naked doctor that’s just plummeted through the Sanctum’s roof and a layer of stairs, the first thing coming out of the man a sentence that chills him to the core of every bone he has.

“Thanos is coming. He’s coming…”

Wong helps him extract the man from the hole, walking him to the sofa, all thoughts of brunch forgotten that very moment.

“Did you just say _Thanos_?” he blurts out while he magics some proper clothes for him.

“Whoa…did you just…conjure pants for me?” Banner frowns at the trousers and shirt. “I hit my head real hard, didn’t I?”

That snaps him right into doctor mode, so he starts prodding fingers around Banner’s head. “I’m Doctor Strange – and before you ask, yes, that’s actually my name, I am an actual doctor and no, it’s not my superhero name.”

“Uhhh…Strange as in the neurosurgeon?”

Stephen reels back at that, wondering why anyone from a completely different science circle would know him. “The one and only, Doctor Banner. Your head looks fine, all things considered. Speaking of which…where exactly did you fall from?”

“That wasn’t a fall, that was Bifrost. Asgardian teleporti – ”

“I know what Bifrost is,” he talks over Wong and waves at him. “This is Wong, my associate here at the New York Sanctum.”

“The…okay. You sure you’re a doctor?” Banner wheezes out in a high pitched voice, his fingers doing some prodding around his head as well.

“Part-time doctor. Part-time Master of the Mystic arts, the Sorcerer Supreme and the Master of this Sanctum.”

“You’re such a Daennerys,” Wong mumbles.

“A _what_?”

_“_Never mind. You’re not a _sports fan_,” Wong glares at him.

“Ughhh, you and your…Game of Bones…references.”

“_Bones_…?!” Wong widens his eyes and heaves in a couple breaths.

“Um…look, I really don’t have the time to deal with this concussion or whatever it is I’m having. I need you to – eh?”

Stephen interrupts him with a raised finger, the Cloak already pushing the phone into his waiting other hand.

“Is that…is the cape moving?”

“It’s a Cloak!” Stephen argues, speed-dialing FRIDAY.

“_How can I h –_ ”

“Where’s Tony?”

“_Boss is heading out for a jog in the park_.”

“Tell him he’s heading out for a jog to the Sanctum instead. Full emergency mode. The _CAPITAL_ E as in Emergency kinda mode.”

“_Assembling’s in process, doc. Stand by_.”

He ends the call and gives the phone back to Cloakie to dispose of. “Right. You haven’t been around for a while, have you?”

Bruce blinks at him, eying the now fluttering Cloak. “No, I’ve been…off-world. Or the Hulk was…most of the time anyway.”

“Just a couple things then – the Avengers broke up.”

“Wait, what? Broke up? Like The Beatles or something?”

“Like North and the South back in the eighteen hundreds, now keep up, Doctor. Secondly, don’t expect Tony to talk…much. You might raise a couple words out of him but otherwise – don’t push it. It’s a long story that I’m not exactly privy to,” he adds when Banner still looks like he’s in a dream…or rather a nightmare. “Now, back to my original question – did you say _Thanos _is coming? To Earth?”

“He’s – ”

The Sanctum doors fly open, one android and two armored suits flying in.

“Under a minute? That’s a record,” Stephen comments, already resorting to filler quipping while he’s slowly starting to panic on the inside.

“Bruce?” Tony zeroes in on the doctor, his nano-suit falling apart and back into the detachable Arc reactor.

“Hey,” Banner stands up and walks up to hug the engineer, who’s too stunned to return the gesture in full.

Stephen tries to ignore the whole scene as more greetings are exchanged in the group and instead refocuses on the only pieces of intel they have so far.

There’s this dude – Thanos. And he’s coming to Earth.

They did their due diligence after Loki’s warning, trying to find anything and everything about Thanos but as far as Earth is concerned, Thanos doesn’t exist.

The good news is that he’s not one of the oh so many ancient threats connected to the Mystic arts. Bad news is, no matter who or what he is, he managed to reduced the Hulk into a panicky mess on their Sanctum floor.

“Hate to break the reunion but I think we have some work to do now,” he walks up to them and nods upstairs. “Let’s talk in the library.”

*******

“Thanos…” Tony repeats the name once they’re sat down at the table and Banner starts from the beginning.

“He’s a plague, Tony. He invades planets. He takes what he wants, wipes out half the population…he sent Loki. The attack on New York. _That's him_.”

“…this is it, then,” Stephen mumbles, eyes locking with Tony’s for a moment. “How long do we have before he gets here?”

“No telling. He has the Power and Space stone; that already makes him the strongest creature in the whole universe. If he gets his hands on all six stones, Tony...” Banner trails off.

“He can destroy life on a scale hitherto undreamt of,” Stephen finishes the sentence and leans back against the chair, the Cloak wrapping tighter around his shoulders.

“Hitherto un…did you seriously just say that?” Rhodey blurts out, exchanging a blank look with Tony.

“What? Too much for your limited vocabulary?” he narrows his eyes at them. “How is he using the stones?” he looks back at Banner.

“He had like a…glove. Looked golden but that’s unlikely…we couldn’t even make a dent in it.”

“That some relic or somethin’, doc?”

“Not one I’m familiar with,” he glances at Wong.

“There is no relic capable of housing _all_ the stones. Must be something new. Something he or someone else created for this very purpose,” Wong adds.

Tony shakes his head and flips out his phone.

‘_Now would be the time to throw these two pebbles down the garbage disposal’_

“We swore an oath to protect the Time Stone. With our lives!” Wong argues before Stephen can even form the sentence.

They brought it up before – destroying the stones, much to Timey’s dismay. It could theoretically be done…the stones are vulnerable to their own powers so something or someone using their own powers to destroy the stones would work.

Like Maximoff. She could probably destroy the Mind stone, no problem. The Power stone could probably destroy all the other stones as well.

The problem with destroying the Time stone is something Stephen became all too familiar with after becoming the Sorcerer Supreme and diving into the more ancient and difficult texts written by Agamotto himself.

Destroying the Time stone won’t destroy time itself, just like destroying the Space stone won’t destroy space or the Mind stone won’t destroy all sentiency in the Universe.

However, the Time stone is a key to the defense against all things mystical. Combined with the Eye, a naturally powerful relic against all things born of the dark arts, Earth can withstand all sorts of magical attacks – from demons all the way to ethereal, galactic entities.

Not just Earth – their entire dimension. Everything that exists in this reality will be vulnerable if they lose the stone.

“We’re talking about all of life here though,” Rhodey scowls at Wong. “Isn’t that a bit more important than your oath? If this Thanos dude gets all the stones he can destroy all of it, that’s what you said!” he turns to Stephen. “If we destroy the stones, he won’t be able to do that.”

“And we won’t be able protect this reality from whatever threat comes after Thanos. I get it, okay?” Stephen stops Rhodey’s next argument. “Your logic makes sense but hear mine out – Thanos might be powerful and yes, if he gets the stones…we are fucked. He’s still just a man…or something. A living, breathing being with a physical body, blood pumping through his veins – lots of usual ways to turn him from a living being to a very dead one. Now imagine a being that doesn’t have a physical body, doesn’t have a heart or a brain that you can stab and be done with it – being that lives on an entirely different level of existence. The metaphysical kind, ethereal in every sense of the way. The kind _we_ deal with as sorcerers, that _we_ protect this reality from. The kind you cannot shoot dead with your suit or with any other conventional weapon, no matter how strong.”

“In other words…you need the Time stone,” Vision interrupts him. “But we do not need the Mind stone,” he adds, surprising everyone else with the underlying suggestion.

“We need _you_ though! We’re not just gonna kill you so we can destroy the damn stone!” Rhodey barks out at the android but deflates when Tony grabs his forearm, head shaking.

‘_There might be a way…to extract the stone without harming Vision_’

“Really?” Stephen raises an eyebrow and _thinks_. He needs to think. Think, think and think some more. He needs…time. Too bad _time_ doesn’t seem to be home.

_So conveniently silent today, aren’t you?_

“How?” Vision asks, curiosity lacing the words.

‘_We could separate your consciousness from the stone…reprogram the neuron synapses to work collectively instead of non-sequentially_’

“Riiight…we’ll just all pretend that we understood that,” Rhodey stares at the message.

“Speak for yourself,” Banner dismisses him, gaping at the message with an entirely different expression. “Why haven’t we thought of that before?”

Tony shrugs, sighing. ‘_It’s Princess Shuri’s idea, younger brain, new pair of eyes and all that…and it’s not like there was a **we** the past few years_’

Banner seems to crumble a bit at that, lips thinning into a tight line. “What…what happened, exactly? While I was away? Your wizard friend said Avengers broke up, what’s that about? And you said like one word out loud – which was just my name, so that freaks me out almost as much as the looming threat of Thanos…what the hell, guys?!”

“It’s a long story,” Rhodey answers, Tony shooting him a grateful smile.

“That’s what he said,” Banner nods at Stephen, who naturally takes offence at the tone. “Look…this is it. This is what you told me about all those years ago, this is why we tried making Ultron work – to protect the Earth from _this_. From Thanos. Whatever happened…we’re going to need everyone we can get. Who…_can_ we get?” he looks around the room a bit nervously.

“Well, all the official Avengers are in this room,” Stephen does the count and sighs. “Avengers pre-school Peter Parker is going to a school trip today, which is good. We don’t want to bring Spiderman on this one.”

“No,” Tony immediately confirms with urgency.

“Thought so.”

“_Spider-man_?” Banner cringes.

“As I said, better keep up, Doctor. The rest…Captain America, Black Widow, Scarlet Witch and Falcon are all fugitives, Barnes…is a very strong _maybe_? And the bird guy and Ant-Man are retired or side-lined to be more specific.”

“There’s an Ant-Man _and_ Spider-Man?” Banner’s cringe intensifies but quickly gives way to seriousness. “What do you mean by _fugitives_?!”

“Long story short? Some hundred countries made rules for us to follow, Cap and the others didn’t wanna. Then Barnes got blamed for a murder and hunted down by an angry cat, HYDRA but not HYDRA got involved and…we fought amongst ourselves, we all lost and now they’re on the run,” Rhodey explains.

“Uhm…”

“Look, there’s some real bad blood going on between us, okay? For like…ten percent of what I mentioned and the rest for what Rogers and Maximoff did. And Natasha, let’s not forget about that, yeah,” Rhodey adds after getting an elbow to the side from Tony.

“Oh,” Bruce frowns. “By Maximoff…you _definitely don’t_ mean that red-headed psycho that mind-controlled me into Hulking out and going berserk around a town full of unsuspecting civilians…right?” he asks and doesn’t have to observe everyone’s collectively exasperated reaction for too long to understand. “_She_ is an Avenger? _Was_ an Avenger? What…_the hell_ happened after Ultron?!”

“Shit happened, that’s what,” Rhodey bites back. “I’m sure you had your own shit to go through, well so did we.”

“You don’t say…,” Banner utters, nearly speechless now. “I…hate saying this I really do but…we need them. All of them.”

Stephen winces at the words. Tony never spoke them out loud before, so hearing them out in the open like this rattles him for a second.

They are both right – fighting an alien hell-bent on collecting the stones will require everything they can get. The good, the bad, the psychotic.

“We can…call Rogers. Did you at least keep the phone number, or was that also lost to the great V-phone ritual burning of 2017?” Rhodey turns to the now fidgeting but also slowly nodding Tony.

“Excuse me, the _what_?!” Stephen blurts out at that bit of an information. “You have his phone number?!”

“He sent it…for emergencies or whatever his reason was. Couldn’t really finish reading that shit.”

“In other words…you _know_ where he is, because you can track that phone…and you_ still_ wouldn’t tell me. Now I’m _actually _offended. I could have sent the guy to the Dark Dimension months ago!” he glares at Tony, who finally cracks a tiny smile.

“So what’s the plan?” Wong slices through the atmosphere, never abandoning his default bitchface this whole time.

“Warn Kamar-Taj, tell the Masters to prepare. If the fighting gets out of hand, I want them to jump in right away – wherever I might be at the time, those are my orders. Then come back to protect the Sanctum, bring Gunther with you so he can’t make any excuses why he can’t or won’t show up…again.”

Having what he needs, Wong nods and portals away.

“They…really _are_ wizards, huh?” Banner whispers to Tony.

“You…,” Stephen turns to Vision. “We need to protect you and the best way to do that is not having you anywhere near me. If they c…_when_ they come, they will have to split their forces to try to get the stones.”

Tony raises up a finger and sends a quick message before typing up one for them.

‘_Shuri can start the process. Can you portal Viz and Brucie-bear to Wakanda_?’

“Don’t call me that,” Banner retorts with a smile and lets out a content sigh. “Wait…portal as in…that thing the other wizard just did? Hoooold on a second there!”

“Yes. And yes,” Stephen handles both the questions and before he has to ask, Tony slides his phone on the table towards him – a picture of what appears to be some high-tech lab on display. Exactly what he needs…funny how that works.

_Teamwork_.

“I don’t think I’m ready for another magical ride, I’ll book a plane ticket…or something!”

“Buckle up, Bruce,” Rhodey winks at him with a grin.

“The Rogues?” Stephen asks over their bickering.

‘_Fri will send them off to Wakanda. I will give T’Challa a heads up_.’

“Guess we got New York then,” Stephen nods and before Banner voices anymore complaints, he portals them both to the lab. “Speaking of which…we should divert the attack away from the city.”

“How do you divert an attack that’s not happening yet?”

“They’ll be going after me. So if _I’m_ not here, neither will they,” he smirks and stands up.

There are million things on his mind and for the love of everything he can’t focus on any single one. He should call Christine, tell her to get ready…for anything and everything. He should think of a suitable place they could fight, somewhere out of the way and empty of civilians. Mirror dimension can only do so much in an all-out war.

He should stop pacing, start thinking and maybe multitask an apology to Tony somewhere along the way.

First – they will kick Thanos’s ass. And then, he’ll gladly attend the wedding. Even if…even if he’ll be slowly dying on the inside throughout the whole event. And then he’ll just dive into his work for the rest of his life.

“Alright. Nevada? Alaska? Sahara? Cold or hot? Maybe the aliens don’t like the cold…or, you know. Air,” Rhodey starts spewing ideas.

“Huh. I know a place in – ” he starts but pauses, a shiver running up his spine.

A familiar ripple through the protective shields around Earth is all he needs to know that the time they needed has all but ran out.

“Ah-oh…tell me _you’re_ doing that with your hair…_again_. Please?” Rhodey asks, both him and Tony standing up, alerting to the high, wheezing and vibrating sound.

“Nope. They’re here. So…plan B?”

They share a determined look and run down to the lobby and outside, where the streets of New York once again become an alien battlefield.

*******

“You sure you’re okay?” Peter carefully approaches him at the donut-ship…Tony’s ridiculous nickname of course. “That didn’t look like acupuncture…at least not like the one Miss Liang does down the street from the deli.”

It certainly wasn’t. That’s what he gets for…being woefully unprepared to fight someone with superior magical abilities. They managed to keep New York in one piece…relatively…but that’s where the good news all end.

Squidward slash Voldemort alien-abducted his ass along with the Time stone and if it weren’t for Tony and Peter following after him, he’d probably end up dead – or worse – somehow letting Thanos’s bitch lieutenant get his fishy hands on Timey, even through all the protections and curses he set up on the Eye.

Speaking of Timey, the damn stone didn’t utter a word since last night and something about that is starting to bother him. The stone running its metaphorical mouth was what usually bothered him – now that it’s silent like…well, like Tony, it’s freaking him the fuck out.

“I’m fine…just a few cuts is all. What were you _thinking_?” he turns the conversation back on the teen.

“Uhhh…I wasn’t? As usual? I’m working on it, Doctor Wizard! We can’t all think on our feet like you!”

It’s meant as a compliment – and at the same time it’s said as an insult. Well…Tony did say that introducing the kid to Keener would end up like this.

“Besides, my movie reference saved the day so…okay, I’ll shut up now. But you seriously cannot expect me to parachute back to Earth and go back to my school-trip while a funky alien is flying off to space with my…with you and Mr. Stark!”

“Right. And _now_ what? Mr. Newest Avenger Parker? We are flying off to who knows where, likely about to fight the greatest threat we ever faced while making sure our _fifteen years old teammate_ makes it back home before curfew!”

“You’re saying that as if I was a little kid!”

“Oh you don’t wanna go there, Peter. Just _don’t_.”

“Well, I’m here! And I’m fighting this Rhinos guy with you!”

“Thanos.”

“Whoever! I fought demons before, remember? I’m not afraid of some…Thanos,” he pouts and folds his arms, standing over him as if he were seven feet tall. “What…what is he, anyway?”

“Not sure. That’s my point. We have no idea what we’re getting into so…yeah. All we know is that he almost wiped out the Asgardians so he’s powerful…and he wants the stones. All of them.”

“Yours too?! And Vision’s?!”

“That’s how I’d understand all of them, yes.”

“But…what’s he gonna do with them?”

Stephen deflates, as if he could stay mad at the kid for more than ten seconds. He glances sideways at Tony, standing with his back to them by the window, watching the stars go by at who knows what kind of speed.

“Nothing good.”

His earlier words to the engineer, who’s continuous silence is perfectly matched by Timey today, echo in his head like a haunting nightmare-to-be.

“_Fine. We’ll take the fight to him, but Tony…if it comes down to protecting the Time stone, Peter or you…I’ll have to protect the stone. The fate of the universe depends on it_.”

Maybe, if Tony just rolled his eyes or typed some mocking comment about that logic, Stephen would have been okay with it.

Instead, Tony’s expression hardened with determination and leaving no room for argument, he nodded.

*******

“You don’t talk very much, do you?” Quill leads them out of the crash-landed donut, falling in step with Tony up ahead. “Ohhhkay, you let the eyes do the talking, that works,” he says, catching Tony’s death glare. “Was afraid you just speak another language and after learning Groot, I’m done with all that.”

“Groot?! Is that like…an alien language?!” Peter runs up to them, excited.

“Duh! Spoken by an entire race of trees! Groot’s part of our crew…but don’t call him a tree, that’s just rude. I’d say he’s about your age, actually. You’d like him…teenagers,” he mumbles.

“A talking alien tree?! AWESOME!” Peter’s mind all but explodes on the spot, while Stephen rolls his eyes, following behind them with the other two…aliens. “Can we invite the Guardians to Earth when we’re done fighting Rhinos, Mr. Stark?!” he turns to Tony with his all-time best rendition of the ‘can we keep them’ look.

“Rhinos?! Who’s that? Does Thanos have a brother or something?!” Quill asks the bald bunch of muscles…Tex? Something with an x.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m going to kill him, his brother, his twin, his pet Sakaaran – ”

“I’m with ya,” Quill nods, stopping their advance when they reach the outside.

The planet is…unsettling. Everything about it screams death, which is doing nothing to calm his nerves.

Titan, as it turns out, is nothing but a barren, dusty wasteland. The days of its glory most definitely gone and the ruins of what was probably a bustling, advanced civilization is now buried beneath layers upon layers of red sand. 

He doesn’t know how much time they have before Thanos arrives in here so he’s going to have to work fast – with all the time that he has. Literally.

Leaving the newly allied group to explore their imminent surroundings, he walks aside to a calm little spot by the rocks and raises his hands. He’s never cast this spell before, nor has he ever thought he would have to one day. It’s one, if not _the_ most complex spell Agamotto recorded in his chronicles and works only with the Time stone to fuel its power.

It’s one thing for a sorcerer to try and peek into the future – it can be done, but it is highly unreliable and often trickier than expected. That’s what time is, after all – tricky.

With Timey and the spell itself, this goes beyond looking into the future. It’s the closest to what Timey basically does by itself – seeing all the possible future outcomes of certain actions.

Right now they could use a bit of foresight, considering Thanos was so far completely uncontested in his endeavors.

“Time to turn the tables,” he whispers and brings the Eye to life with a flurry of hand-motions, activating the spell.

*******

He can tell that what he’s seeing is all part of the vision only by how colorless it is – there’s the occasional flash of green here and there. Otherwise it looks and feels completely real.

Just ten different visions later, he decides _completely real_ is a bit _too_ real.

The spell is nearly timeless, meaning no matter how long one vision gets – hours, days, years – chances are in reality not even a second went by yet. And the first few hundreds of visions are pretty damn short.

They lose so quick it gives him a whiplash a couple of times.

He suspected they are unprepared to face a buff alien dude wielding not one, not two, but _four_ Infinity stones – it still surprises him though how easily the Mad Titan wipes the dusty ground with all of them.

Thanos stands strong, just him alone with his shiny gauntlet. The moment they let him use it, they’re doomed.

They are not used to fight together – them and the Guardians – and it shows a lot in every single outcome of their battle here. Each new vision starts to tip the balance of powers though. With every little tweak to their initial battle plan, instead of Thanos arriving on Titan and killing them within the first minute or two, they last five, ten minutes and more.

It’s never enough. Not yet.

Trying not to focus too much on the carnage, Stephen jumps from one vision to the other, pushing the images of their collective mangled, dead bodies out of his head. All he needs is to find one.

Just one time that they win.

At the first million mark, he starts radically changing tactics. Maybe coming to Titan was a mistake after all. Maybe they stand a better chance back on Earth with the rest of the Avengers and the Wakandan battlefield ready to meet all of Thanos’s forces head on. So he portals them out of Titan and they regroup – quite the regrouping that is with the Rogues.

It doesn’t take many visions to realize that if their teamwork with the Guardians was wonky, their teamwork with the Roguevengers is even worse. He gives it more time, tries different approaches – and it doesn’t matter.

Maximoff destroys the Mind stone after it’s extracted from Vision – and it doesn’t matter. Thor swoops in with a new hammer and murder written all over his face – it doesn’t matter. Stephen tries breaking just about all of the natural laws that he knows of – and it doesn’t matter.

Thanos _always_ wins. Sometimes their attempts at resistance make it easier, sometimes Thanos has to really sweat it, but no matter the journey, the end is always the same.

Thanos wins. They lose. Half of the universe is wiped out of existence.

That’s what he’s after. Even three million visions later, it’s not enough for Stephen to understand why. For Thanos it apparently makes perfect sense – if half of the universe doesn’t exist to use and waste its limited resources, it will all be balanced and the universe will be a paradise for those who survive.

The first time Thanos explained it to him, Stephen might have accidentally blurted out something highly offensive…along the lines of:

“You are fucking retarded, aren’t you?! That’s the stupidest thing I’ve _ever_ he – ” which is where he got obliterated by the Power stone.

The first time Thanos got to explain it to Tony, it didn’t go any better. Tony’s variety of ‘what the actual fuck’ expressions were meme-worthy.

Life is not something that can be tamed by just wiping half of it out. There used to be just a couple thousands of people on Earth back in the days and now there are billions! The plague decimated the population like nothing ever before or after and they still got to the billions few hundred years later.

It will take time – as all things do. Hundreds, maybe even thousands of years but what Thanos so triumphantly achieves by snapping his fingers is, in the end, only temporary.

Life spreads, adapts and thrives. It will always recover. Unless Thanos destroys all of it, it will always come back in full force. Back to where it is now.

Retarded or not, Thanos has his dream and now he’s about to get the means to achieve it. No matter his intentions or logic, he will have the power to do it.

Three million visions turn to five – he tries combining the approaches, wear Thanos down on Titan to give the Earth crew a fighting chance…it’s another dead end. Five million turn to ten – he tries hiding, running away to places even Dormammu wouldn’t dare enter.

Thanos always finds him, in the end. Sometimes while he’s still alive to run some more, most times Stephen just dies – alone and in misery. The dead-man protective spell doesn’t give Thanos as much trouble as he’d hoped, so once again – Thanos succeeds.

Sooner or later, he always succeeds.

At vision number 13,996,786 he almost gives up.

It’s one thing to die, over and over and over again – Dormammu gave him all the practice he needs to overcome that. To be indifferent to his own demise, whether it’s by Thanos’s hand, the snap or old age.

Watching everyone else’s fates is much, much worse.

He tries to ignore it, tries to focus on defeating Thanos and nothing else but there’s only so many times he can look at whatever’s left of Peter once Thanos is done with him without it hauntingly engraving into his brain. Broken and bloody and motionless…pieces. He’d wonder what’s worse – witnessing that, or witnessing Tony’s reaction to it afterwards.

Tony’s deaths are an eerie certainty throughout the visions – no snap, no old age, it’s always Thanos. Either having a one on one fight or jumping in to protect just about anyone from the Mad Titan, the visions all have one thing in common – Tony Stark, dead somewhere on the battlefield.

Fried by the gauntlet, beaten to oblivion, ripped in half…Thanos certainly doesn’t lack the imagination when it comes to Tony.

Just like Tony’s been painfully aware of Thanos’s inevitable arrival, Thanos was – to some extent – aware of Tony himself. He calls him by name and all things considered, treats him with a portion of respect he wouldn’t expect to come from such a deluded mad man.

Doesn’t stop him from squishing Tony’s head in his hands, but he doesn’t mock or condescend him.

Not that Tony cares in the least. Especially if the shriveled purple grape somehow manages to kill Peter first, Tony doesn’t care about anything after that. A few times, his rage-filled attacks _almost_ succeeded, making Thanos really sweat it to survive. But their disadvantage is just too big.

Rage can be a fuel for power – but the Power stone is still the best fuel for power.

At 14,000,356 they get close to a win. So close Stephen steers the next vision to get the same outcome, just to see it again. 14,000,357 is the closest they ever got to winning and at the same time, it’s the outcome where they lose the most.

It instills a deep dread into his very soul.

What if they can’t win? What if winning over Thanos will still mean losing?

Could he end the spell and steer them down the road which leads them to a dead Thanos and the Earth nothing but a ruin? Would that be a win? Peter’s god damn spider teenage body nothing but a splash on the ground, but hey – Thanos is dead and the universe is saved! Is that supposed to be a win?!

In vision 14,000,604 Stephen loses it. The spell ends – like at the start of every vision – and he crumbles to the stone ground with a quiet sob.

And for the first time since he approached the hunched, dead-looking man in the waiting room all those _lifetimes ago_, he can understand how someone fully capable of speaking could take a breath, open their mouth…and nothing would come out. _Could_ come out.

Not because of vision 9,532,124 where they all somehow survived long enough – dragging the fight across months – for truths to start spewing out to the surface. The truth of a chilly December night of 1991 and the equally chilly evening in a Siberian bunker 25 years after that.

Not even vision 12,687,567 where Tony shared the story with him, specifically. Trembling fingers sliding across the keypad, tears hitting the screen, panic in his eyes as if he’s reliving the whole thing again.

No.

Stephen lies there, on the hot, sand covered stones and stares up into the unfamiliar – yet already too familiar – Titan sky and wants to _scream_! He opens his mouth and wants to let it all out – scream, shout, curse, tell them all how royally fucked they are.

Nothing comes out. Just a quiet wheeze of air that turns into another choked sob.

Tony is there – he’s always there. Always first, hovering over him, steadying hands on his arms and concern all over his face. He’s there now, too – eyes wide and beyond worried and Peter steps up a moment later to kneel down over him next to Tony.

And he still can’t say a word.

Peter holds onto one of his arms, speaking words Stephen’s brain is too tired and frazzled to care to hear, unshed tears already forming in his eyes as the Guardians carefully approach his collapsed form.

Then _Tony_ speaks.

A single word. One his eyes can decipher even if his ears cannot. He’s been enjoying watching the word form around Tony’s lips for way too long to not be able to read it.

“Stephen?!”

He can’t watch anymore, so he brings his arms up to his face to cover it whole, ignoring the hands that had a hold of them until just now.

“Stephen!” he hears it now, echoing through the small valley. “What’s wrong?! What did you do?! _Stephen_!”

He shakes his head, squints his eyes shut and uses his hands to cover his ears instead.

The ever so gentle hands try to pry his arms away but he trashes and sobs until they let him go entirely.

He. Just. _Can’t_.

There’s more talking – he ignores it. The Cloak eventually picks him up and brings him somewhere – he doesn’t care where to or why it even bothered.

_He_ _can’t_. He can’t do this anymore. He can’t deal with it – he thought he can but he can’t. He can’t see a single one of these visions or he’ll lose his fucking mind.

The vision plays out around him – he could make it stop. End the spell. Go back to the real world, full of colors…where this sand would get a lot redder should he do that.

He can’t stop but he can’t go on…so he’s stuck ignoring Tony’s pleading _voice_ and Quill’s last minute battle plans and Peter’s whispered words of determination…he ignores Tony’s hand resting on his face before they all move to wherever they decides to fight Thanos at and he stays here.

A useless, sobbing heap on the ground.

** _Giving up already, sorcerer?_ **

He snaps out of it with a muffled cry, eyes flying open to see he’s on the Benatar – hidden, _safe_. For the moment.

** _I expected more from you._ **

“Y…o.._you_!” he stutters out loud through an episode of hysterical laughter. “You…useless…p…piece of…ffff-king rock!” he yells into the nothingness.

** _Ah, I am the useless one now? Do not forget this spectacle is only possible through my power alone, sorcerer. _ **

He half-loses it again, laughing through the heaving sobs. “Wh…at a…spectacle that is!”

** _Now now, this was your idea. I could have suggested it but I had all the confidence in your average intelligence._ **

Stephen scrambles off the ground and paces around the room in angry strides, all the while trying to find his lost wit and compose himself.

“_Now_ it talks!” he complains to himself. “Leave me…fumbling through million different futures, why don’t you?! Mind stepping in anytime soon?! If you haven’t noticed, your future doesn’t look any better than ours!”

It’s angry and spiteful – but it is the truth. Thanos might have an idiotic sense of logic but he’s not completely stupid. He gets the stones, he snaps his fingers and once he settles into his little farmer’s corner of the universe, he destroys the stones.

Every time, without fail.

So if they lose, the stones lose too. He thought the grim outcome would raise some helpful advice from Timey millions of visions earlier. Not now.

Now when it’s only getting _worse_.

** _And how is that?_ **

“How _is_ that?! Were you taking a nap through all of these?! We are _done_. Done, dead! Your stoney ass included! I tried everything! The closer we get to winning, the worse it fucking gets! So THAT’S HOW!” he rages at the stone.

** _Perhaps winning is not what you should be aiming for._ **

“Ooooooooh, really?! So this is it? There’s no version of this where we come out on top, huh? Great! I’ll just walk over there and give the stone to Thanos, why don’t I?!”

**_Excellent idea_. _Your intelligence might be above average after all._**

It takes him a moment to realize the stone is not trying to be funny. It’s dead serious.

“Wh-at?!”

** _You are no fool, sorcerer. The last few thousands of outcomes you were already onto something. You could see that the price to pay for preventing Thanos from succeeding is way too high. So you played with the radical idea of not really trying to anymore. _ **

“The f…what are you talking about?”

** _An excellent approach – to let the Titan win._ **

“Excuse me?!”

Yes. Stephen did try that and he was grasping at straws at that point – trying to see if the not-snapped folk could maybe come up with something _after_ Thanos wins. But they just don’t have that kind of time.

Before the survivors get their bearings, the stones are destroyed and with them, all hope of reversing the snap.

** _Why jump to such hasty conclusions now, sorcerer? _ **

“They’re not hasty – unless you missed the few thousand visions where I tried to let it play out this way. Thanos wins, the stones are destroyed and whatever’s left of the Avengers, the Guardians…of anyone! They can’t do anything anymore. They try but it’s never enough!”

** _Yes. Because they are missing an important piece of this puzzle._ **

“Oh here we go, the Cryptic Hour’s in session, everyone!” he tells the empty room.

** _What if I told you our destruction is inevitable? What if I told you that this is really it – for me and most of my siblings? _ **

“I’d say you’re not very good at your job but…go on. Wait, _most of them_? What does tha – ”

**_Listen to me now, Strange! _**Timey commands, the use of his actual name stilling Stephen’s storming mind the instant. **_Listen to me like you’ve never listened to anyone or anything before. Watch and observe, like you have never watched or observed before. _**

“…go on,” he echoes in a whisper.

** _There is a way – to both defeat Thanos once and for all and to reverse what he inevitably must do. _ **

Stephen remembers a conversation that started in a similar way – back when he made the deal. “How?”

**_Watch_**, it instructs and the vision is suddenly collapsing into a whirlpool of green light and when Stephen emerges from it, it is different from all the rest.

Where he’s always lived every vision through a first-person point of view, he is now a mere observer – omnipresent to the scene that once again takes place.

Over by the rocks, Stephen Strange floats above ground with the spell in full effect until it breaks, just at Tony reaches out to him. This…other _him_ explains what he’s done and that there is only one way to achieve victory.

Stephen floats around in his bodiless state, watching his vision-self explain the battle plan to the group – it sounds straightforward. Incapacitate Thanos using Mantis’s abilities and then steal the gauntlet from him.

He tried that already – and it fails in all sorts of spectacular ways. Mainly because that’s where Nebula decides to show up and with the news of Gamora’s death, Quill all but shoots this plan in the face. Even when he prevented Quill from going berserk – or when he delayed Nebula’s entrance, getting the gauntlet was a momentary success at best.

Thanos would break out from the control and the last vision he remembers ended up with both Tony and Peter dead within a minute.

He expects the battle plan to continue with some kind of a twist to it – but that’s it. He watches himself set the group up for failure.

Thanos portals in and the battle commences just as planned until Mantis is sitting on his shoulders and putting him to sleep.

Still – this Strange does nothing. Nothing to stop Nebula or Quill. He lets it play out as a complete fail.

_“I don’t need to see how this goes – again!” _he berates the stone, its presence as vague and invisible as his own. _“I’ve seen it before!”_

Outcome 1,367,924 – looked so promising with him applying all the different teamwork strats between them and the Guardians. Not promising enough though.

**_Watch_**, Timey repeats.

It dawns on him then, that this vision is not exactly part of the spell. This…this version of events is being shown to him by the stone itself. Deliberately. On purpose.

** _Why of course. It would take millions more visions to get to this point and with you already struggling, it is for the best to skip ahead. To be fair, I did not expect you to get as far as you had. Most would end the spell after one or two thousands of visions for the sake of their sanity if nothing else. _ **

“_Wh…you said you expected _more_ from me!_” he recalls the stone’s earlier jab.

** _That was merely to get you focused. It was either singing or attacking your ego – I chose the latter._ **

_“…thanks. But how is this one any d –_ ”

“Stop!”

Stephen alerts at the sound of his own voice and watches the vision take an unexpected turn – one that did not happen before. Thanos battled it out with Tony and in the and, ultimately, Tony would lose. Stabbed with his own weapon and then obliterated by the gauntlet. Instead…

“Spare his life…and I’ll give you the stone.”

Stephen’s jaw would hit the ground if he had any right now.

“No tricks,” Thanos warns him, lowering the gauntlet.

Ignoring Tony’s protests, his counterpart nods and summons Timey – depositing it straight into Thanos’s waiting hand. The Titan clicks it into the gauntlet and disappears into a portal, leaving Stephen’s omnipresent being mentally gaping at the scene.

Why would he do that?!

“Why would you do that?” Tony actually speaks the exact same sentence, patching himself up the best way he can while also trying to comprehend what the fuck just happened.

“We’re in the endgame now.”

“_What endgame_?!” he shouts at his other self and if he had hands, he’d probably choke the answer out of him. “_You’ve got to be kidding me! I’ll just…hand you over?! That’s it?! What kind of a stupid plan is that_?!” he once again rages at the stone’s selected outcome.

On Earth, Thanos snaps his fingers – as Stephen knows he would – and the Titan crew starts dusting away until none are left. None but Nebula and Tony.

And _Tony_.

** _Do you understand now? The missing piece of the puzzle to the ultimate success. _ **

“…Tony,” he utters in complete disbelief. “He’s the missing piece…”

**_Watch_**.

Stephen does. He watches the precarious journey back to Earth, watches the emotional exchange with Rogers, watches how the fragmented team assaults Thanos in his little corner of the galaxy, killing him for good.

Little has changed from the previous vision. The only real change being Tony.

There’s the wedding, the cozy cottage in the middle of the woods, with a lake and everything. There’s Morgan and her high-pitched laugh as she runs around the place on her tiny feet. He still doesn’t speak much, even learns sign language together with his daughter to make up for it.

After millions of lifetimes full of blood and death, this puts a smile to Stephen’s still nonexistent face. Even if it’s equally difficult to watch this outcome as any of the others. For his own…stupid reasons.

He watches years go by with no progress being made. They all tried at first – Tony would lock himself up in the lab with Banner and Nebula, trying to figure things out. The result was the same – without the stones, they cannot reverse what’s been done.

Five years after the snapocalypse, a rat pushes a button in a dark, dusty storage somewhere and Scott Lang comes out of his little timeless bubble that Stephen won’t pretend to understand even with all his insight as a sorcerer.

Lang has a plan. When this happened in the vision Stephen saw, Lang had the same plan – use the Pym particles to create a system capable of teleporting them to particular points in time and space of a parallel universe.

To get the Infinity stones.

Only in that vision, Lang never makes it work. They run a few tests that nearly end up with him being a baby and after few more failed attempts, even Lang gives up – leaving the survivors to deal with all the false hope.

This time, it works.

Because this time, they have Tony. They come to him, plant the seeds of the idea and Tony being Tony, he figures it out. Of fucking course he does! People may fool themselves into believing Iron Man is Tony’s superpower but Stephen should have known better. Should have realized it millions of visions earlier and apply the logic into all the visions that followed.

It’s not Tony’s armor – his true power is his genius.

So they build the machine and build the suits and venture into the parallel universe to collect the stones in the past, where Thanos is just a looming threat in the background. He can’t see what exactly happens there, but they succeed.

At a price.

Romanov doesn’t make it back, her life the price to retrieve the Soul stone. Admirable, from the backstabbing spider Stephen only knows her as.

It’s a good thing Stephen is just a floating consciousness or he’d be having ten heart-attacks by the time the Hulk snaps his fingers. There’s a flash of light and then complete silence. But Stephen can see. He can see it all.

He can see half of the universe’s worth of life snap back into existence, himself included – and he can see the sky over the Compound split open and Thanos’s ship shooting the complex to bits within seconds.

The earlier euphoria at finally witnessing the snap being undone is replaced by dread as the parallel universe’s Thanos and his army descends upon the ruins, desperately searching for the Iron Man-made gauntlet, while the Titan himself waits above the rubble.

And he brought presents. Throwing them unceremoniously on the ground so when Tony, Thor and Rogers make it there to face him, the mangled remains of their parallel-selves are right there on display for them to see.

This Thanos is different. This one knows the extent of his success – and his failure. He massacred the pesky team that would stand in his way in the future that awaits him in his reality and he’s come here to finish what the other him started.

Thankfully, the three men are not alone to fend off the terror.

The sparks of a hundred portals light the horizon and Thanos’s forces are met by all of Earth’s defenders as the Avengers are assembled in full, joined by the Guardians, Wakandan warriors and the Masters of the Mystic arts.

“_I see…”_ he whispers, marveling at the epic battle that rages on the plains where the Compound once stood. The Time stone makes no remark though.

Just as well. Because the history is about to repeat itself.

Even with their combined forces, they were never able to battle Thanos and win – and now he’s got all his loyal minions with him too and they fully compensate for the lack of the gauntlet and any Infinity stones. Ebony Maw being the biggest problem with his way too overpowered abilities.

Thanos gets the gauntlet and this time, he’s not planning on wiping out another random half of the universe. It’s all or nothing. No half measures, no potential for _anyone_ to reverse it.

With another snap of his fingers, all of life would disappear.

“I am _inevitable_,” Thanos gloats, the word all the scarier since Stephen’s heard it used by the Time stone itself in regards to the Titan.

Stephen sees and hears the snap and he’s about to yell at Timey for showing him the _worst _possible outcome ever…and then he sees something that scares him even more than Thanos even could.

In what previously looked like the last futile attempt to stop Thanos, Tony took the stones – now on display in Tony’s own armor’s version of the gauntlet.

“_No…_” he blurts out, knowing exactly what’s about to happen.

“And I…am…Iron Man,” Tony forces out of his battered body and doesn’t give Thanos a single second to even think, let alone act.

With no hesitation at all, _Tony_ snaps his fingers.

And Stephen feels like disintegrating into dust right along with Thanos and his army.

*******

The vision ends and Stephen is brought into an eerie place, once again aware of his body and surroundings, no longer just an observer, facing a glowing bundle of green light.

Timey.

**_Hello, sorcerer_**, it greets him in a booming voice, as if they’re meeting each other for the first time. They are, sort of.

“There must be another way,” is what he follows up with. The spell is no longer in effect, he doesn’t know how long he’s got so he needs to make the most of it.

**_This is the only way_**.

“Bullshit! You just lack the imagination! There’s never just _one_ way!”

** _There is now and this is it. Out of millions and millions of possibilities, there is just the one. _ **

“You’re lying…”

** _I do not grasp the concept of such a humanly thing, sorcerer. Nor would I have a reason to lie to you, if I were capable of it._ **

“You…you want me to save his life just so he could sacrifice it in the end?! How more twisted can you get?! Nononono, now that I know he’s the key to get the stones later on, I can work with that. I can find a way,” he decides and starts pacing around the place.

**_You cannot_**.

“Watch me!”

** _I could not find a way. I searched through all of time and this is the only viable outcome._ **

“That’s ridiculous! I…I can tell them not to bring Nebula alo – ”

** _Telling them would change everything – for the worse. _ **

“I can portal Thanos out of the way, or the gauntlet!”

** _Ebony Maw will never let you do that._ **

“I’ll do the snap myself!”

** _Are you already bargaining with me, sorcerer?_ **

“I’m – maybe?! You’re not exactly being very helpful here!” Stephen flails his hands.

** _I spared you 20,365,147 more visions to endure and presented you with the answer – what else would you have of me?_ **

“Help me find another way!”

** _Back to denial? It truly does not suit a man of your mindset._ **

“Oh this is not denial, this is me calling your bluff! There has to be another way!”

** _As I said, I do not deal in lies – and I found no other way that would secure any sort of future for this universe and dimension. Are you proposing that you will find a way I could not?_ **

He stops his pacing and glares at the blob of green energy, raising his hands. “You managed _this_!” he spits, shoving his steady and perfectly healed hands towards Timey. “Little party tricks…is that all you’re good for in the end?! That you can’t even prevent your own destruction?!”

** _Even the Ancient One understood – once your time comes, there is nothing you can do._ **

“But there _is_,” he whispers, his mind racing now. “You said so yourself. Back when we made the deal and many more times after that. Everything is about keeping balance. If something should happen but it doesn’t, something else will happen to take its place,” he recites from memory.

** _And here we are._ **

“…what?”

** _Why, sorcerer, is it not obvious? All of this could hardly happen if Dormammu had devoured the Earth and all of us with it. With two Infinity stones stuck in the demon’s bowels, how would Thanos ever succeed in his plan? Battle Dormammu to get us? He would try of course. And he would fail._ **

“Are you…are you saying this is _my_ doing? That all of this is happening because we defeated Dormammu?!”

** _Naturally._ **

“Natu – are you serious?! Why would you have ever allowed that if it would ultimately lead to the destruction of all the stones and half of the universe dead?! So much for you deciding what happens and what does not!”

** _Bold of you to presume the other fate would have been better. Thanos is far from the only menace in this corner of the universe. With Dormammu and an open rift to the Dark Dimension, how long do you suppose this reality would last either way?_ **

“So you just led us to another apocalypse?!”

** _I shall be the one destroyed – yet you speak as if you were doomed to the same fate._ **

“Am I not?!”

** _You will live on._ **

“Well I don’t want to! Not if this is the only way! There…there is your solution.”

The green blob expands and flashes and Stephen no longer knows if he should be intimidated or in awe of the display.

All he knows is that he found a way – one that the stone spoke of itself before.

Sacrifice.

** _You would give up what you love the most to save lives that you don’t even know, lives that might not even deserve saving._ **

“It’s the right thing to do. And I intend to give up more than that.”

** _I know what you are about to propose. But alas, it is not something I can agree to._ **

“You said an exchange is an exchange! A life for a life! I’m willing to give up all of it. All of me…just let him survive,” he breaks at that and doesn’t care if it sounds like shameless begging. “Let him live. With his daughter, his wife…_let him live_. Please.”

** _I cannot._ **

“Why?!”

**_Because this outcome rests on the sacrifice _he_ is willing to make. The very same you are proposing for yourself. He is also willing to sacrifice his own life for the life of everyone else, for the people he cares about, and all the beings he doesn’t even know exist. His sacrifice is the one I cannot change, no matter what anyone offers in return. _**

He shakes his head and the anger bursts through his chest at the words. “Then what’s the point! What _was_ the point?! Of our trade?! If he was just going to die anyway?! If I weren’t a doctor I wouldn’t have even met him until today! What kind of love would I be sacrificing if he dies hours after meeting me?! You…you…_you liar_!” he whines, collapsing to his knees in a heap of sobs and angry tears.

** _You do now._ **

“What?!”

** _I promised I would one day tell you if you would regret the choice you had made. _ **

“Oh…no, _no_,” he laughs, staring up at Timey with a sour expression. “You’re a bit late to that party…I’ve been regretting it for _months_. But now I see there was nothing to regret! Tell me I’m wrong! When would we ever have the chance to…to…_how_?! I don’t understand! If he’s going to die then **_how_**?! He…he would never…he’s got Pepper and…this was just one of your funny ploys, wasn’t it?! Boring old humans, gotta spice things up, right?!”

** _As usual, you are asking all the wrong questions._ **

Stephen runs his hands over his face and sits, any fight still in him evaporating in that moment.

If someone told him two years ago, that he would fall in love with a man he could never have and then watch said man die a million deaths…watch him sacrifice everything for this ungrateful universe, Stephen would choke on laughter.

Timey told him – in his own, cryptic way. And Stephen laughed and mocked it…and made his choice.

He wishes he never made it.

** _Finally. Something we can actually talk about before we part ways._ **

Stephen looks up, barely seeing Timey’s ethereal form through the tears.

** _Stop pretending to know what awaits you in the future to come, Stephen Strange. Knowing the future comes with a terrible price – as all manner of things do. Of all humans in this universe, you should now understand that knowledge is more of a curse than a blessing._ **

He sighs, hunching over and averting his eyes from the bright green light. “Great…can’t even…say goodbye without you going cryptic on me.”

** _You would however greatly offend me if you believe that I would sacrifice my own existence only to allow this universe to be destroyed. For it to have no future – for you to have no future._ **

“Some future that’s gonna be,” he chokes out a humorless laugh.

** _You watched – but you did not observe. This outcome is the only way and one day, Strange, you will understand. One day, you will see. Now, it is time to return and secure the only future this universe has. Before we do that, say it out loud. _ **

“Say…what?”

** _Your thought from just a moment ago. Say it – wish for it and know I shall grant it not because I can. I will do it because it will result in a better future. I cannot undo the past as you well know – but I can undo it in the present in order to seize the future. I will do it because you deserve it._ **

Stephen composes himself the best he can and when he stands up, facing the bright orb that is time, he no longer knows what to think. But he knows that no matter what all this means and if it will have an impact on anything at all – other than himself – he doesn’t want to stick to the deal.

“I…wish I never agreed to our deal.”

**_Then by all the remaining power that I yet hold, I dissolve it and _all_ that it affects._**

He is blinded by a flash of green light and the world around him crumbles out of existence.

*******

When he opens his eyes, he’s falling onto the sand-covered stones, attacked by colors he hadn’t seen in millions of lifetimes.

Tony’s there, always there, holding him upright…staring wide-eyed at something down in Stephen’s lap?

Stephen follows his gaze, his clouded mind only now registering the barely familiar pain.

“Your hands…,” Tony breathes out, moving his own hands to hold Stephen’s aching, shaky pair of limbs.

Like the deal never happened. Broken bones and scarred skin. _But what does it mean?!_

“It’s nothing,” he chokes out but makes no move to withdraw from the hold.

“What did you do?!” Peter exclaims, hovering over both of them.

“I went forward in time to view alternate futures. To see all the possible outcomes of the coming conflict.”

“How many did you see?” Quill steps up with obvious interest.

“14,000,605.”

Tony tears his eyes off of their joined hands and looks up. “How many did we win?” he blurts out, as surprised by speaking the sentence as Stephen is thrilled to hear it.

If only for that one fleeting moment.

He stares at the man, his brain firing up memories of all the futures that will never be but that will never escape his memory regardless. Tony and the millions of versions of him are going to be haunting him for the rest of his doomed days.

But for just this one moment before everything starts falling apart, he will revel in the rare sound of Tony’s voice, engraving this memory into his brain above all the others.

He straightens up, closes his mouth and tells the truth.

“One.”

“Perfect! Let’s get on with it then!” Quill nods, waving for Mantis and Drax to gather round.

Stephen explains the plan and it goes exactly as it did when Timey showed it to him.

Thanos arrives, they fight…and they lose.

He parts with Timey using the same bargain and there are no farewells spoken between them. It is not their style, after all. Cryptic is more like it.

**_There will always be time – _after_ time, sorcerer. Remember that, until we meet again._**

_I’ll hold you to that._

Thanos takes possession of what’s become an inseparable part of Stephen throughout the years and disappears with his spoils.

Whatever Timey’s last words meant, _they are all out of time now_.

Peter and Mantis alert to it first, their perception beyond what humans can feel.

When Stephen catches onto it himself, he knows the next time he snaps back into existence, there will be one more battle to fight. One more farewell to _not_ be made.

“Tony…,” he speaks to the panicking engineer, who’s gripping onto Peter as if his touch alone could hold the boy together.

Tony glances over his shoulder at him, the terror in his eyes as disheartening as the first time Stephen saw it.

“There was no other way.”

He isn’t sure if he means it as an explanation, an excuse or an apology but he hopes it will have the desired effect. Tony cannot – not for a single second – believe that there was another way or worse, that this is somehow all his fault. Something he’s so guilty of doing all the time.

With Peter’s ashes on his hands a few moments from now, that thought will be on Tony’s mind no matter what anyone says but that won’t stop Stephen from trying. If it’s the last thing he’ll do.

And it is.

As the tingly feeling in his limbs starts to spread and his body begins to fall apart, he can only hope Timey was onto something and that he won’t have to wake up only to watch Tony Stark die within half an hour.

One unsnapping and twenty minutes later, all that hope is crushed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Apparently, the writers first wanted to include the 2014!Thanos killing the 2014!Avengers at the end of the movie and maybe even taunt our!Vengers with it, but...they pussied out and dropped the concept. _Apparently_, it didn't fit into the story and was overall too difficult to make it work in the narrative. 
> 
> Well...I am shamelessly adopting this idea and making it work because it's shocking, awful and downright evil. So naturally, I love it! :3


	11. Chapter 11

Tony is aware of wind picking up, carrying dust and sand to attack his face. He is aware of the blood slowly seeping through the emergency seal on his wound. He’s even aware of the figure, standing at a respectful distance away from him; waiting.

Most of all, he’s aware of _himself_.

There is no crack to his skin, no dissipating limbs about to be carried across this forsaken planet. Everyone else is dead. Gone. Snapped out of existence. He should be too, so he waits, barely allowing himself to breathe.

Seconds turn to minutes, minutes turn to an hour – he’s still here. He _shouldn’t_.

He shouldn’t have been the one to watch Quill and his team fall apart, one by one. Or Stephen, following right after them. And most definitely not Peter.

It should have been him, but just like in the nightmarish vision Wanda left him with during Ultron, he’s been left alive to watch everyone else die.

“We have to go.”

Everyone but…whoever this is.

“The night is coming, it will be freezing in here before long.”

He looks up, regarding the robotic kinda woman with an expression he hopes conveys what he thinks about that piece of information.

“I’m not leaving you here, human,” she surprisingly catches onto his silent reply and continues the commandeering. “So get up and follow me – or I will drag you to the ship myself, you choose.”

Something in her tone of voice cracks through his hazy mind and for the first time since Peter disappeared from under his fingertips, he is not just aware – he _feels_.

The excruciating pain in his side, the exhaustion, the wind getting colder with every moment. None of it can compare to the deeply rooted terror instilled in the very core of his being.

They lost. They lost…everyone. He lost the kid. He lost Stephen. Who knows how many more people are gone on Earth.

_They lost_.

“_Don’t_ make me drag you, human,” the robochick is looming over him now, hand extended.

Why bother? What else is left now? Did the Avengers survive? Pepper? Happy? Does he even want to find out? The true extent of their defeat?

“_There was no other way._”

Stephen’s last words ring through his ears like alarm bells. They lost…_and yet_, those words sounded extremely odd given the circumstance. They sounded plenty lost but they hardly admitted defeat.

He saw the outcomes of this battle, made the plan, fought along with them…lost along with them, but not at any point did he admit that the one and only outcome they had supposedly won…is not his one.

“_We’re in the endgame now_.”

The words echoed Tony’s own from years ago – only he thought _this_ _was _the endgame. Yet Stephen sat there, after just voluntarily giving up the one thing he not only made an oath to protect at all cost – but also after telling everyone mere hours ago that the fate of the universe depends on the Time stone’s safety; and once Thanos left, his only explanation was – we are in the endgame now.

_Now_.

The son of a bitch disintegrated into dust five minutes later but somehow he insisted _now’s_ the time for the endgame. After they just blatantly lost!

Broken, in both spirit and body, his pesky brain rarely allows him to ignore things that make no sense, no matter if he’s bleeding out on the rocky ground of an alien planet or just chilling in the Compound, listening to Rogers.

This is making no sense. _Stephen_ is making no sense and he’s a fucking genius!

Was.

“_There was no other way_.”

Unless he’s making perfect sense. Unless…_there was no other way to win_, because in order to win, they had to _lose first_. Let Thanos have his win so they could…no. So _he_ could reverse this whole thing somehow.

One does not simply give up an Infinity stone for someone else’s life on a whim.

No.

This is not over yet. _This_ is the endgame.

With renewed determination and his stubborn will to survive initiated, he reaches out, accepting the offered hand and allows himself to be hauled up from the ground and steered to where the Guardians parked their space ship.

*******

Weeks later, he’s not so sure about the endgame anymore.

This ship has seen better days – not that he’s an expert on space ships. Yet. But if Nebula says they’re lucky to still be flying, then it’s not like he’s going to argue with the alien android…Luphomoid…whatever she described herself as.

Fixing her up was easy enough for him – much to her carefully hidden surprise. The ship is a different story though. After they kick Thanos’s butt and reverse everything, he’s going to have a loooong chat with that Missouri dipshit who would call himself a captain of this junk!

Not enough proper spare parts, limited supplies of water and edibles – it’s ridiculous! Shit started breaking on their second day in space and so far it seems like the more they fix, the more it breaks.

Until it breaks to a point they can’t repair. The engine gives out and the little power they have left is barely enough to provide life support and heat for a week or two.

The question is what’s going to kill him first – lack of oxygen, hypothermia or thirst.

After exhausting every possible option they had to get this piece of scrap moving again, Tony spends his time mostly with Nebula or alone up front, staring into the infinity of space.

The imagery has given him nightmares for years, even back on the donut ship he was on the edge of a panic attack at least twice. Now…what could possible scare him now? He’s seen it all. So his nightmares shift from black holes and freezing bunkers to red skies and dust.

What’s the point in sleeping anyway? Back in his younger years his problem was to wake up, the prospect of sleeping still so alluring. Howard would always tell him: “You can sleep when you’re dead!”

So he’s been making that excuse ever since to justify his lack of sleep, and now he’ll see it through.

A part of him still wants to believe this is not the end – the part that refuses to believe Stephen’s idea of winning consisted of letting Thanos win and then having him slowly wither away light years away from Earth. What an endgame!

Thinking about Titan is admittedly the worst part of this predicament. Once the horror subsided at least a little bit – mostly thanks to Nebula and her occasional storytelling – he recalled one particular thing about Titan that almost haunts him just as much as the battle itself.

In that one moment, after Stephen ended his spell, Tony felt…something. He still can’t quite describe exactly what it was but it kinda felt like coming out of a spell himself. And it had nothing and everything to do with Stephen.

What used to be just a blurry and foggy image was now staring him in the face in crystal clear, sharp edges.

It was less like a spell and more like the infamous ‘Tony you’re a genius but also a gigantic, oblivious moron sometimes’. Rhodey’s words, not his.

He liked Stephen. _Obviously_. Otherwise he would have never allowed the wizard into the team or anywhere near the kid. A great doctor, a supreme wizard but most importantly someone that never bothered with Tony’s bullshit – since before the man even realized who he’s dealing with. He would bluntly tell him what’s up and if Tony didn’t like it he would switch to banter mode quicker than Wong could ever switch to his resting bitchface.

Somehow, he could _understand_ Tony. Pepper or Rhodey being able to do that with or without words wasn’t that surprising – they’ve known him forever. This guy though, this guy was a natural at the elusive art of dealing with Tony Stark. Even through the year of late night talks and every-day banters, Tony could never quite tell. After coffee breaks, brunches and movie nights, he still couldn’t tell.

That _like_ was not exactly the word anymore. That it hasn’t been the word for a long time. The very thought of this never even occurred to him.

Not until that one god forsaken moment on Titan where it all suddenly clicked in his head and made perfect sense.

At the same time it made zero sense, because while he can be oblivious on occasion, this went far and beyond obliviousness. How could anyone in their right mind completely miss falling in love with someone?! Tony is mostly not in his right mind, admittedly…but _still_.

That’s a bit of an odd thing to miss.

Especially since he can recall how it happened, every step of the way. Every little moment that made him go “oh” and “so that’s what it is” and “shit!”. What he doesn’t recall is why he seemingly forgot about all of those moments and went on with his days as if nothing was happening at all. 

As if he was most definitely not cursed and doomed and confused and ultimately fucked. Nah. His brain somehow decided it was all fine and he should definitely proceed with ignoring it and just go forth and propose to Pepper. Yay! What an idea, brain!

Tony really is a moron. And if he gets out of this alive, there’ll be hell to pay for that.

And even more hell should they reverse the snap.

*******

“Should I kill him?”

Tony blinks his eyes open at that and regards Nebula with a suspicious squint. That’s about as much movement as he can squeeze out of his recovering but weak body.

“The man you yelled at. Is he your enemy?”

He sighs and closes his eyes again. His earlier short but loud outburst with Rogers was still fresh on his mind and this gentle reminder was not helping it one bit.

“Didn’t look like a friend.”

If he had the strength to laugh and bathe in all this bitterness, he would. What else is there to do now that he can add an alien he knows for all of few weeks onto the list of people that give a shit about him?

Care enough to get to know him – unlike certain someones. Nebula sure didn’t have it easy with him uttering all of five words through the entire journey. Apparently, aliens can speak English but reading is where they draw the line.

So much for his usual means of communication. Maybe he should take up sign language after all. Do aliens know sign language? He’ll find out – for science!

“He didn’t look dangerous. I could sneak into his room and be done before anyone would notice.”

Tony would usually take comments like this with a spoonful of jest, coming from his friends. Pepper probably did smack Rogers around with her heels but actual murder? Nah. That’s Nebula’s field of expertise, alright? He remembers enough of her stories to know she’s being completely serious about this assassination offer.

She doesn’t seem like a person to share her life story…stuck on a space ship with a weird and silent human after just losing to Thanos, losing her sister and losing almost everyone she even knew, the words came easy.

“Fine. No killing. I could threaten him – at least? Make him squirm. Make him regret his pitiful existence.”

The question brings him back to full awareness. Nebula doesn’t strike him as someone who would _ask_ to do something. She would just go do it.

She can clearly see the confusion on his face and relaxes her posture, no longer standing at attention by his bedside like some kind of a guardian cyborg. “Slitting his throat would work much better…but I can compromise on intimidation if you _insist_.”

He gives her a small smile and for the first time in weeks, he falls into a restless but long sleep.

*******

By the time he’s back on his feet, the tables have turned once again. The remnants of the Avengers – old, present and new – return from their mission, faces downcast and about as silent as Tony is most days.

They tracked Thanos down to a planet somewhere and brought their vengeance upon him with all their might – all for nothing.

Thanos was dead and it meant nothing. It made him feel…nothing. That’s the nasty thing about vengeance – it feels like nothing. Maybe for a moment or two, but down the road it’s just a bottomless pit full of _nothing_.

Nothing can bring back what was lost, especially not the death of the person or people responsible. What _could_ have brought them back – every soul lost to the Snap – was the gauntlet with all the Infinity stones.

Tony has to wonder if Stephen saw this in that future as well. The destruction of all the Infinity stones. Or is this the final nail in the coffin for their endgame? One he did not foresee, one Thanos himself introduced into the picture – clearly afraid his hard work could be undone?

Sometimes he wonders what he saw in the other 14,000,604 outcomes that aren’t supposed to be this one. That’s a big number. Bigger than one might think. Imagine watching a movie fourteen million times. Or just watching fourteen million movies? It can hardly scratch the surface of what he must have seen.

Fourteen million lifetimes. The harder they lost, the shorter they were – the better they fought, the longer they got.

Tony would go mad after a couple thousands, let alone millions – and _he_ doesn’t have eidetic memory. Stephen is the kinda guy that remembers the first one thousand digits of Pi so of course he kept track of the exact number of the outcomes he saw – but Tony bets he could recall each and every one of them, by number and by details.

A terrifying thought.

Tony remembers losing to Thanos just once – and this was clearly the better outcome. He can only imagine the bloodbath in the other ones.

Now, with the stones destroyed and Thanos dead, what is supposed to be the endgame? Tony doesn’t know the answer to that question. Not yet.

But he’s only getting started.

*******

“I don’t know if any one of these can help you, unfortunately,” Wong brings another batch of books, smacking it on top of the book mountain already forming on the workbench. “Not to underestimate your genius, but without practice and proper understanding of the Mystic arts, these will be nothing but gibberish to you.”

‘Try me,’ Tony signs and makes a grab for another book, discarding the previous one into the growing mess on the floor.

“He _is_,” Nebula comments, eyeing the to-be-read pile.

“Alright, suit yourselves,” Wong backs off into the portal leading to Kamar-Taj’s library.

Even magic is bound by laws so if he can figure out which laws of physics he can obliterate by magic to break…time, space, reality, any one of the aspects of the universe previously harnessed by the stones, then he can deal with gibberish.

He will also try to carefully ignore the parts that simply state: _use the Time stone to conjure this spell_. That’s not very helpful.

Before Thanos, the idea of using all the stones together was exactly that – just an idea. Thanos found the way and means to make it a reality and Tony has learnt anything since meeting Stephen, it’s that the Mystic arts are all about imagination.

If there’s not a spell for something, all it takes is one cunning sorcerer to create it from scratch. Now this is something he can work with because science is the same way. No element capable of doing something he needs? He’ll just create a new element that can.

Hell, he will reinvent the entire element table if it gives him the answer.

“Give me something to do,” Nebula demands, always fidgety when the task at hand is something she can’t partake in. She learnt sign language probably faster than Tony and tackled reading quite recently – but reading in Sanskrit is still another level.

Reading in Sanskrit about weird magical shit, that’s probably beyond _his _level too.

‘Go threaten someone.’

“Already done.”

Tony rolls his eyes and discards this book as well. There’ll be no answer to his problem in a guide about weapon enchanting.

‘Help Viz with dinner?’

“It’s five in the morning.”

‘Breakfast?’

“I can’t cook.”

‘He will teach you.’

“I don’t like him.”

Tony chuckles, shaking his head. ‘Who _do_ you like?’

“No one,” she defiantly folds her arms over her chest and scoffs. “People here are…strange. I think I will just stick with intimidating them.”

‘You don’t intimidate me.’

“You aren’t strange, you’re just crazy.”

‘Bruce isn’t intimidated either.’

“He told me I’m _cute_. If I didn’t know he was your friend, I would have sliced him up on the spot.”

‘Viz thinks you’re cool.’

“I am _not_! The machinery works up to be quite warm! Here, try for yourself!” she presents her forearm to him.

Suppressing a laugh, he just hurriedly nods. ‘I believe you. Go make Viz boil.’

She frowns, narrowing her eyes at him. “Make him what?”

Crap. ‘Rest.’

“Rest? You want me to go kill him?” she asks, all too hopefully.

He flails his hands no and berates his brain about giving him all the wrong signs. ‘Spaghetti and meatballs,’ Tony smirks, giving up on the damn _try _sign. He probably could sign something along the lines of ‘go show Viz how warm you are’ but he doesn’t want to end up in tiny sliced pieces on the floor.

Who knows if he could get away with such a blatant innuendo. She misunderstands some expressions and most of the slangs but she’s no Spock.

“I take it back. You _are_ strange. Better practice that some more,” she waves at his wiggly fingers and storms out of his lab.

He really should. But for now, work first – fun later.

*******

The world is still in disarray – governments barely keeping it together, economy sill picking itself up from the dead bottom, people very slowly moving on with their lives. The Avengers are a complete mess.

Considering the Avengers are just three people plus an alien summer intern chick, it’s debatable how much of an avenging team it is.

Rogers and Natasha are the only ones really going for it. Rhodey is technically part of the team but focuses more on maintaining order in the military these days and Carol, being the galactical shiny beacon of power that she is, doesn’t have the time to babysit Earth all day long. Apparently the rest of the galaxy is in about as bad a shape as Earth so there’s a lot to take care of out there.

Thor gathered what was left of the Asgardians and settled in some village over in Norway; Clint is supposedly doing some serious revenging – Sith style, if the rumors are to be believed; Bruce went on another sabbatical few months ago and made it pretty clear he doesn’t want to be a part of the team, and Vision signed off the second Rogers placed himself in charge.

Funny how that happened. 

Tony handed in his official resignation just day after returning from outer space and it already feels like the best decision he’s ever made. With his track record, that’s really something. Pepper did use to say it would take the end of the world for him to start making good decisions…she probably didn’t expect for the end of the world to really come and do just that.

She hasn’t expected a lot of things that happened since he came back. Or maybe she has…god knows that woman has a more functional brain than he’s ever had. To Tony, his feelings were always just a jumbled confusing mess…and after Titan it got 9000% worse.

By the time he finally conveyed all that mess to her in what he hoped was a sensible manner, she wasn’t angry or disappointed…or slamming her heels against his head as he half expected. She wasn’t even _surprised_. Like she knew exactly what he meant by badly explaining he doesn’t…feel the same…anymore?

Pepper understood what he’s still barely wrapping his head around and she needed all of one minute to do so.

With the wedding called off, she moved on to seize the remnants of SI in attempt to single-handedly rekindle the economy from the new HQ in Manhattan and succeeding, if Tony’s any judge of that. From the minimum of news he pays attention to as of late.

It’s been one year since the Snap. That is all the news he knows. All the news he needs.

*******

On the two-year anniversary, Tony packs up the lab and moves out of his little corner of the Compound to a tiny cottage ruin by the lake – far away from New York. Far away from the Threevengers. He spends a month rebuilding it and when he’s done, he gets right back to where he left off with his research.

“This…is nice. Also, it’s totally not what I meant by _move on_,” Pepper looks around his new workshop.

‘Did you say move on? I could swear it was move _out_.’

“Tony…you’ve been at it since...one hour after they released you from the hospital. Day and night. You plundered the Hogwarts’s library, you overloaded FRIDAY’s servers – twice; you had Carol bring you all sorts of alien texts and artifacts and…you know I’ll be the last person to ever tell you there’s something beyond your capabilities and to just give it up. I’ll fight the second-to-last person with my shoes to prove them wrong! But…take a break every once in a while for god’s sake!” 

She’s not wrong. Seeing how difficult it is for his brain to come up with anything new, a little break here and there could freshen things up. It’s difficult to allow himself a break when it already feels like he’s the only one trying.

Bruce called it quits within months, Shuri refocused on keeping what’s left of Wakanda in one piece after a year, and while Nebula visits every week – sometimes with and sometimes without Vision – it’s more a catching-up visit than sciencing shit up one. Rocket made a few trips across the Galaxy, searching for useful info but after a couple dead-ends, even he gave up.

In the end, it’s just him. Technically, him and Harley.

“Your optimism is bizarre. Also, will I have to defend myself with shoes as well or can I use conventional weaponry?”

“You think a potato gun would help you against custom brand of steel heels? Ah, so young and naïve,” she quips back at the teen.

Harley surviving the Snap was a small mercy on Tony’s shattered soul. Seeing how Nebraska’s population dropped to what one would expect from a little town off the road in the middle of nowhere, Tony all but dragged the lone kid out of there to stay with them in New York…and now here.

Bless his independent nature but there was no way in hell he would leave the kid alone up there, no matter how many _communities_ formed in the area. In Rhodey’s words, he pretty much adopted the kid – temporarily. Until his mom comes back.

Until everyone else comes back.

Peter, May, Stephen…all the rest of them, too. Even Maximoff. They will come back. Tony has to believe that, because otherwise he would have to admit defeat. Admit that whatever went wrong in this outcome was most likely his fault since it’s not really working out yet.

“_There was no other way_.”

He must believe that. For everyone’s sake.

*******

Bruce goes half-green and opens up a bistro – something Tony just had to fly down to NYC to see in person. The Snapocalypse was at least working for some people. He’s never seen Bruce so calm and content with who and where he is in his life.

He’s also never seen Harley casually eat half the menu and order desert on top of it.

Tony always had his fair share of troubles with eating – the few weeks of starvation in space didn’t help that in the least, so Harley is usually the one who attacks the fridge like a lawn-mower every other hour at home, but this was a definite step-up in appetite. Bruce almost couldn’t keep up with the fryer.

_Teenagers_.

Tony fumbles with the fork and barely touches the divine-smelling waffles, too busy staring out the window – the familiar skyline being a painful reminder of things that used to be.

Of another teenager that used to brighten up his days with his constant influx of energy he brought to the room. Of a snarky wizard and his curious red cape that lived just a few blocks away…protecting this reality and whatnot.

It reminds him of simpler, better days, when he could smile without it turning sour, drink coffee without the bitter taste of longing in every sip and look at New York thinking _home_…instead of _lost_.

It’s the first time he’s been here since moving out of the Compound. It’s been three years since Titan.

And slowly but surely, the hopelessness starts sinking in.

*******

The doors leading to the basement are always locked now.

Tony passes them by every morning, fighting the urge to open them and venture inside. He could easily do it – he’s not turning senile yet to forget a simple five digit entry code.

He promised he wouldn’t though. To Pepper, to Harley, Nebula, Vision, Rhodey…most of all he promised to himself that he wouldn’t give in to the temptation. To the _what ifs_. To the _maybe this times._

It’s a slippery slope that leads from ‘I’ve got an idea!’ to ‘It doesn’t work’ and ends with a trashed workshop and him lying in the middle of it with five empty bottles of whatever he could find at the time and a pool of his own tears, vomit and who knows what else.

It’s like some karmic fucking destiny for all the Starks to search for something that refuses to be found and become a drunken, miserable bundle of bones and flesh as a result.

Howard never listened when someone told him to stop it. Stop it all. And in this regard, at least, Tony will make sure to not end up like him.

He doesn’t know what leads him to a different set of doors on this particular day but here he is, on what used to be a busy, bustling street in the middle of New York – before an alien ship landed just around the corner.

Wong lets him wander around the Sanctum, the hallways and rooms formerly familiar to him are now almost a forgotten flash of the past. Dust and disarray speaks the tale of what’s been lost and not found again.

He sits down on a creaky chair in the library and wonders what self-torturous thought made him come here, of all the places on this forsaken planet. Why?

Way before _everything_ was lost, Tony’s already lost something.

On bad days and even worse nights, when he wants to punch in the entry code, descend into the workshop, fire everything up and work until he feels like passing out, he brews a cup of coffee instead, sits by the fire and tries to throw himself down the memory lane in desperate attempts to figure out where did he go wrong all those years ago.

It’s the worst of clichés – to only mourn something after it’s gone. To realize the extent of one’s loss only after losing everything.

He doesn’t believe in clichés. He doesn’t believe in much these days, but he refuses to believe he just missed one of the most important things in his life – in fact, kept on missing in on it day after day, week after week and not realizing until it was gone.

The _what ifs_ are haunting him for more than just the one reason. What if he only realized sooner. Why _didn’t_ he realize sooner?!

So he sits there, surrounded by the memories he has of this room – the nights spent here with freaky books and weird wizards, the days spent chasing a slippery, curious spider around the building and drinking coffee afterwards, magicked into existence just for him.

He sits there and can’t help thinking how utterly unfair it is, that he will never have the chance to act on all those late and futile realizations.

Story of his fucking life. _Unfair_ is his old pal and his shadow goes by the name of _Alwaystoolate_.

Wong doesn’t kick him out when the night falls and the candles flicker into life around the room. He would thank him, if he had it in him to speak.

Today, he can’t even bring his hands up to sign the word.

It’s not just one of those days. It’s a Wednesday in late April, springtime kicking in full force and five years ago on this same day, he collapsed into a hospital chair near the room where his best friend was fighting for his life; bloodied, broken, lost and speechless.

Five years ago he sat in that uncomfortable chair after just surviving his own death, losing two friends and losing all the trust he’s ever had in friendship and teams and…maybe even love. The nurses passed him by, the visitors were too busy on their way to notice him and there was a quiet voice in his head telling him that if he were to bleed out and die right there and then…he wouldn’t terribly mind.

And then a nosy, stubborn doctor came along and reached out to his battered soul. He reached it, grabbed it by both of his steady hands and never let go.

No matter how much he wants to return the favor now, he can’t. He tried, he failed. And if he goes on trying, he will lose his mind along with everything he’s still got left.

*******

Tony plays it tough. It’s surprisingly easy to do when all he really has to do is sit on the patio sofa and blankly stare Rogers down like he wants to slowly erase the man’s existence with every squinty move of his eyelids.

Harley isn’t buying Tony’s tough act and once Rogers and his lot is done talking, he all but stuffs them into their inconspicuous black SUV and politely sends them back to where they came from. He doesn’t even spare Bruce, which in turn makes Tony not buy _his_ tough act.

The dust isn’t even settled on the road as the SUV drives off and Tony’s met with Harley’s version of Wong’s death glare.

“The answer is no. No you don’t.”

‘Be specific, mom,’ he signs, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

“You don’t have to help them.”

“Ahhhhhh,” Tony drawls out, putting up a warning finger and smoothly following up with signing. ‘Is the gigantic loophole there on purpose or are you losing your mojo?’

“Just because some weirdo insect guy, who wasn’t even around here the past five years, thinks he has a solution to everything, doesn’t mean they get to drag you back down that hole,” he argues, folding his arms.

‘It’s a solution that doesn’t work. Yet. I can make it work.’

“Maybe. You can _maybe_ make it work.”

‘I can totally maybe make it work.’

“I don’t doubt it. But if it’s a dead end, I do doubt any one of them is going to care that they gave us another dose of false hope and deal with the aftermath. Taking responsibility is not what they’re known for.”

‘It’s worth a try.’

Harley sighs and opens the front door. “I guess…it’s definitely the craziest idea anyone’s come up with so far – and yes, I’m counting in your attempt at trying to substitute the power of the Infinity stones with _Unobtanium_.”

‘Well…I was whacked out of my mind back then.’

“You don’t say. Now, order some take out while I go hide all the booze.”

‘Bossy much? Fine, I’m thinking Thai.’

“Sure. And by the way, I know your superhidden emergency stash of vodka.”

“Oh.”

“Both of the stashes.”

Tony glares at the smirking teen and sits back against the cushions, bringing up his phone. Instead of Thai food, vodka and mouthy teenagers, his mind is already doing the math.

Time travel is a tricky thing and ultimately impossible, not the way movies make it work anyway. Even if they could travel back to the past in their own reality, the moment they would change anything they would inadvertently be creating an alternate reality – changing nothing in this one.

He played with the idea a lot, to a point it made his brain hurt. Time travel does that – especially after years of being subjected to all sorts of unrealistic time-travelling ideas from the media. Nothing he came up with would result in their reality being changed at all.

Travelling back in time in a parallel universe though…he didn’t really think of that. Now that Lang explained how that could be theoretically possible with the quantum realm, Tony can see the potential way for it to work out.

There are too many questions, too many variables…but with the Pym particle and enough protection to not be torn to shreds on the way…

He makes the order for the food, bolts for the one locked door in their house, punches in the code and smiles as the workshop comes alive.

*******

For a single moment of naivety, Tony believed there was no catch. That Bruce will snap his fingers, undo Thanos’s own snap, everyone will return and they will live happily ever after, the end.

He can only blame his momentary lapse in judgment on the fact that everything seemed to have worked out _so_ well for them. It wasn’t easy nor without loss and sacrifice but _it worked_. They gathered all the stones from the parallel universe, reinvented the gauntlet and Bruce unfinished what Thanos started.

What was a complete science-fiction just few months ago, what nobody thought was even possible anymore, is now the reality. And Tony was a complete fool to think some cosmic level of fuckery wouldn’t come in to screw it all up for them now.

Cosmic level of fuckery aka Thanos. One extremely pissed off Thanos.

Not their Thanos – although Tony would like to think wherever their dead-ass Thanos is, he’s also extremely pissed off – the parallel universe’s Thanos. The one who doesn’t even have the gauntlet yet but somehow witnessed both the success and failure of his ultimate plan and decided to come lend a hand to his dead parallel counterpart.

As Tony approaches him with Thor and Rogers in the ruins of what had been the Compound just a minute ago, Thanos is the epitome of calm and collected. He sits there by the broken up concrete in his fancy armor and a gigantic sword plunged into the dirt next to him – all covered in blood and gore.

Thanos sits there bloodied from head to toe and he’s smiling.

That’s how Tony knows their victory is likely going to be very short-lived. And he knows the calm Titan is pissed off because of what they find laid out on the ground in front of him. The source of all the bloody carnage.

They stop their advance, staring at the scene.

Rogers reels back, letting out a shocked gasp. “Is that – ”

“Us,” Thor breathes out the answer.

Broken limbs and severed heads, mangled and mutilated and tortured beyond recognition. Mjolnir in pieces. Rogers’s old shield nothing but a shrapnel. A ripped-off hand, the Iron Man armor still on it. Clint’s bow broken and his own arrow jabbed in his head. Natasha’s red hair the only part of her body recognizable. Pieces of green limbs the only thing left of the Hulk.

Tony would be shocked. He would stare and gasp at the scene as Thor and Rogers are doing just now but he’s seen a very similar scene before. The vision has been haunting him for years since Ultron and even with the added gore it’s not really something new.

The dead bodies of the Avengers, _the parallel Avengers_, laid out for them in here as a preview and Thanos sitting above them like the satisfied conqueror telling them: This is what I’ve come here to do to you.

_Mess with the time, the time tends to mess back_.

Calm and smiling…it’s all a façade for this Thanos’s inner madness, the unstoppable fury now coursing through his very being. Nobody murders people like this without being beyond furious.

“This is a trap,” Thor warns them, Rogers too busy being shell-shocked so Tony shrugs in reply. “Good. Just as long we are all in agreement. Let's kill him properly this time,” he adds, double-wielding his hammers and leading their advance.

“You could not live with your own failure,” Thanos speaks up, the booming voice that was just a distant memory to Tony suddenly all too real again. “And where did that bring you? Back to me. I thought by eliminating half of life, the other half would thrive. But you’ve shown me that’s impossible. And as long as there are those that remember what was, there will always be those that are unable to accept what can be. They will resist.”

Tony doesn’t need to hear the rest of his evil monologue to know what he’s after. The dead Avengers at the Titan’s feet are an answer to everything.

Unlike their Thanos, this one is so over his own philosophy now. No more balance. No more _half_ measures.

Kill one half, the other half is still around to cause trouble. This Thanos won’t leave anyone behind to cause trouble, no. He will destroy all of life if he gets his hands on the stones. Then he’ll move on to his own reality to do the same thing – the Avengers are no longer a problem for him there and _they_ have already done the hard work and collected the stones for him.

That’s all that matters now. They reversed the snap, all they have to do is keep this Thanos away from the gauntlet and the stones.

They keep him away or they will lose everything.

So they fight like the fate of the universe depends on it – again.

Just like before, they get their asses kicked.

As he’s recovering from a Stormbreaker shot to the face, he hears Thanos’s venomous voice from where he’s fought off Rogers.

“In all my years of conquest. Violence. Slaughter. It was never personal. But I'll tell you now…what I'm about to do to your stubborn, annoying little planet…I'm gonna enjoy it. Very, very much.”

Tony scrambles to his feet and watches Thanos’s entire army descend upon the battlefield, hundreds if not thousands of funky alien creatures and the ever familiar Chitauri, all led by Thanos’s bitch squad…out of which he recognizes Squidward with a wince.

There’s too many of them and how the hell are they supposed to fight an alien superwizard?!

With a sizzle of magic in the air, he gets his answer as the horizon behind them gets flooded by the orange glow of portals he once used to hate so much. Tony stands there, properly speechless now.

In under a minute, the odds are balanced and the Avengers, Wakandans, Masters of Hogwarts and Guardians of the Galaxy are assembled on the battlefield to face the horde heading their way.

He doesn’t have the time to marvel at the scene he thought he’d never be able to see. Everyone is back. Everyone is here. And they will have all the time in the world to reunite once the battle is over.

With that thought in mind, he fires up the slowly recovering armor and dives into battle head-first, blasting alien dogo’s into kingdom come.

One of the big dudes from Squidsquad knocks him down but Lang, being currently the biggest dude of all, kicks him off and continues his stomp around the field.

“Hey! Holy cow!” Peter runs up to him out of nowhere, the sight of him knocking Tony breathless again. “You will not believe what's been going on! Do you remember when we were in space? And I got all dusty? I must've passed out, 'cause I woke up, and you were gone…but Doctor Wizard was there, right?! And he was like, ‘_It's been five years. Come on, they need us_!’,” he makes his best Stephen imitation to date and Tony just stumbles forward, circling his arms around the rambling kid. “And then he started doing the yellow sparkly thing that he does all the time...what are you doing?”

Tony just holds him tighter, stifling the onset of tears…for now. He can break the fuck down later.

“Huh…this is nice,” Peter mumbles, hugging him back.

“You want me to tell the aliens to give you a minute or can we go back to exterminating them?” Harley pats them on their shoulders and starts impatiently tapping his foot against the rocks.

“HARLEY?!” Peter blurts out, eyes wide.

“Guess who’s turning twenty-one sooner than you now, Parker?” he wiggles his eyebrows and grins.

“Was it seriously _five years_?!”

“Yep. So…wanna come insta-kill some aliens or what?” Harley suggests, the helmet of his own Iron suit of armor wrapping back around his face, the lights turning ominously red.

Peter looks back at Tony, who’s too busy staring at his…at them.

“Let’s,” Tony nods.

“S-WEET! Karen? Insta-kill mode time!” Peter instructs and they all move back into the fray.

Tony hangs around for a bit, but seeing the kids are double-teaming on the creatures with deadly succession, he moves to the more struggling part of the field.

Clint emerges from the rubble there, waving the gauntlet in the air.

Fuck.

“Uh, guys? What do you want me to do with this damn thing?!”

“Get it as far away from here as possible,” Rogers instructs, leaving Tony to roll his eyes.

Duh.

“We have to get the stones back to where we got them!” Bruce argues instead.

Lang figures out the rest and the plan is set – they need time. If only they had a former Time Lord on the battlefield who apparently predicted this entire outcome.

Tony spots the flurry of spells accompanied by the dangerous fluttering of the Cloak not too far away, so he blasts his way through the aliens and stomps over to the man that haunted his nightmares for over five years.

The look he gives Tony when he registers his approach will likely be an addition to those nightmares. It is quickly replaced by the infuriating neutral façade that Tony used to hate about as much as his very own press façade. For that one quick moment though, Stephen’s expression made him relive the horrors of Titan because it was the same one he had on his face when he snapped out of the spell.

The same one he had before he faded into dust.

For Tony that’s a carefully repressed five years old memory – for Stephen and the other undusted folk, it’s ten minutes ago. By tomorrow the aftermath of that will slowly settle in for everyone. Many happy reunions and all that – and many not so happy ones.

A lot can happen in five years. For many people, a lot _did_ happen in those five years. People changed. People moved on. People died. Even Tony was forced to accept the reality that they might never see them again – and unlike most other people he had plenty of reasons to believe that they would.

Everything will change tomorrow. Right now, he will focus on making sure they will have a tomorrow.

At least that’s his plan when he makes the final steps to the damn wizard, only one question clear on his mind. His body on the other hand has an entirely different idea of what his plan is and while he successfully stifles the urge to either punch or…kiss the man – both of which would not be helping the situation in the least – his legs decide to add two more steps to his stride and his arms find their way around the wizard’s shoulders as easily as they did around Peter’s.

Damn misbehaving limbs.

The action startles a choked sound out of Stephen that almost makes Tony pull away and curse his impulsiveness and apologize in all the verbal and nonverbal ways that he’s capable of but in the next second there’s a shaky hand at the back of his head and he can see rather than feel the other sneak around the armor.

Tony’s brain is screaming ‘we got no time for this’ and his reason agrees one hundred percent, but neither make his body move.

In the end, thousand moments too early, it’s Stephen’s quiet but urgent “Tony…” that does the job and as they pull apart, Tony finally clicks back into action mode.

“Tell me this is the one,” Tony speaks an entire sentence for the first time since he yelled one or two at Rogers five years ago, and somehow gets an answer even before Stephen replies out loud. Either his eyes got super expressive in the past ten minutes or…he’s just never observed the subtle change in them this close before.

This is it…_but_. There’s a _but_. There shouldn’t be a but. Unless the but is something even worse. Like a _maybe_. 

“If I tell you what happens, it might not happen.”

Not exactly what he asked for but at least it doesn’t sound like a _no_…or a _maybe_. It sounds like _so far so good_.

If this one win is going _so far so good_, why the fuck is Stephen looking so _defeated _instead?! Tony hates mixed signals. He’s plenty guilty of them himself, so he knows that whenever he says or more recently signs something but his body language slips and totally sends the opposite kinda message…there’s something afoot.

In his case it’s usually the good old ‘I’m fine’ bullshit. Of course he’s not fine but it’s not like he’s about to break down and vomit his entire thought process at whoever asked.

The question of his wellbeing is about nine thousand levels away from the question of the fate of this universe though. Mixed signals are really bad when it comes to the latter. To a point he almost regrets he even asked.

But they’ve gotten this far, it’s not like he’s about to start questioning Stephen’s ineffable plan _now_. He’s right – even confirming this is the one win could potentially change the entire outcome…and they don’t want that. So he’ll let it slide just this once, but tomorrow the wizard better be ready for questions.

“Alright,” he says and signs at the same time, the habit too strong already.

With that, the moment is gone and over. The battle catches up with them so they both resume their efforts to stop the swarming aliens, as well as occupy Thanos while they’re trying to sneak the gauntlet away from him.

Peter, being the sneaky spider he is gets the job and gets pretty far, catching a few rides along the way to Lang’s weed van, ending up on what looks like a…nope, it _is_ a flying fucking horse. Tony forgot all about those.

Which is when Thanos pretty much rains down fire on the entire battlefield. Not as badass as raining down a moon on them but just as effective – for a salve or two, before the spaceship’s weapons all turn upward.

“Fri?” he questions the sudden change.

“_Something just entered the upper atmosphere_.”

Something…more like _someone_. Someone with a proclivity for last minute entrances. Tony’s willing to let that slide as well, considering Danvers basically vaporizes the entire ship and descends on the stricken aliens with all her shiny wrath.

_Now_ it’s starting to look like the winning scenario.

Danvers is kinda weird but she also express-shipped their asses to Earth by literally becoming the engine to the Benatar so…he can’t complain.

She takes over the delivery mission and Tony takes a minute to assess the situation. Quantum tunnel ready to receive? Check. Thanos and his superannoying bitchsquad and Chitauri slash Cthulhu army moving in to get in the way of the delivery? Check. Said army and squad getting destroyed with extreme prejudice? Also check.

The van getting destroyed by Thanos’s sword? That…wasn’t supposed to be a check.

Mentally cursing the outcome, Tony takes off towards the gauntlet that’s now sitting in the field like free real estate, while Stephen moves in to stop the water flooding into their little crater from the lake, the only rock barrier gone with the explosion of the damn van.

Seeing Thanos has his eyes on the prize, Tony changes his advance and tackles him instead. That was a bad idea even back on Titan and in five years it hasn’t gotten any better. Thanos swats him away like an annoying little fly and his vision goes black as he hits the ground.

It doesn’t feel like he’s been out for too long, yet when he gets his bearings and scrambles into a sitting position, the battle is taking a turn for the worse. That’s one of the mild ways to describe waking up to see Thanos with the gauntlet ready for the snap.

For one heart-stopping moment, Tony thinks this is it. Thanos’s fingers almost doing the job before Danvers stops him…with her bare fucking hands and fights him like he’s not an overpowered purple alien grape of nightmares, just another normal buff guy from the gym or something.

But Thanos is more than that and Danvers doesn’t have the experience of fighting the Titan for entire minutes, locked in a duel to the death in the ruins of his old world to know just how much more he really is. He’s not just power, not just sheer determination and wrath. He’s a bag of tricks and he fights dirty.

She fights, and just like them, she loses.

Tony looks to the side, locking eyes with the only man that can make sense of what’s going on right now and when Stephen raises a trembling finger – both a warning and a message – Tony understands.

Finally, there are no mixed signals, no mysteries or doubts or nothing…it’s clear as the sky was this morning. Everything makes sense, from Titan all the way to the here and now.

His lips twitch into a tiny, broken smile and he nods at Stephen, seizing the few seconds to try and convey everything with just that one look. Even after all these years, he’s probably not _that_ good at it, but that’s all he can do before leaping back into the fray and brawling Thanos for the once again fully operational gauntlet.

Thanos isn’t the only person that fights dirty and has a bag of tricks.

Tony learnt his lesson on Titan. Titan was Thanos’s battlefield – now he’s on Tony’s, wielding Tony’s gauntlet and therefore playing by Tony’s rules.

This Thanos doesn’t know the extent of pain and suffering he had caused here. This Thanos wasn’t the one fighting on Titan. This Thanos has no idea who he’s toying with. Who he really pissed off.

Tony makes a grab for the gauntlet but Thanos quickly dispatches him, sending him flying back to the ground again.

“I am inevitable,” he utters, tired and frustrated but still sneaking in that mocking tone from before, when he showed them his handy work with the parallel Avengers.

He snaps his fingers – and nothing happens. The horrifying clink of the metal does nothing, kills nothing.

While Thanos is occupied with confused staring at his now empty gauntlet, Tony stands up – the stones already powering up in the gauntlet he installed into his armor. The past fifteen years taught him a great deal about caution and being ready for nothing and everything.

If nothing else, his initial arc reactor taught him everything he ever needed to know about the need to have spares available.

Thanos turns his wide eyed stare his way and Tony _understands_.

He was once the Merchant of Death – and then he swore to not waste his life in a dark and damp Afghani cave, to a man that was about to sacrifice himself for him to survive.

That day, he’s become someone else.

“And I…am…Iron Man,” he shoots back and makes his move.

He’s become someone else, but just for once, before he rests, it is only fitting to revisit his former title.

Tony snaps his fingers and hopes that Jinsen’s sacrifice was not in vain after all.

The world around explodes into a blinding flash and the agony he feels as the Infinity stones do his bidding only lasts a second.

_Checkmate_.


	12. EPILOGUE

The bright flash of light is followed by an eerie silence. No more explosions, bodies hitting the ground, magic sizzling in the air.

Thanos and his army seized all movement, the feeling of their impending doom slowly dawning on them.

It was just like Titan, the creeping onset of dread filling the air only this time Stephen witnessed it from the onlooker’s point of view. It wasn’t half of the universe this time, not even the entire universe. No randomness, no balance.

Tony snapped his fingers with a singular purpose and so, with a look of utter disbelieve, the Mad Titan looks at his arm as it starts to fall apart and within seconds, his whole body withers away into the light breeze. His alien minions follow his example, their dusty remains scattering across the battlefield as the allied forces stare at the spectacle, unsure if it’s really happening.

Stephen finishes up the reinforcing spell on the temporary dam and makes a wobbly step towards the man responsible, now collapsed on his knees, the right side of his body burnt and unnaturally discolored.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter beats him to it, running up to the still form and falling to his knees in front of it, Harley slowly following up to him with shaken movements. “Hey…Mr. Stark? Can you hear me? It's Peter. Hey. We won, Mr. Stark...we won. You did it, sir…you,” Peter chokes on a sob, tears already falling down his face when his sullen expression is replaced by one of horror. “No…please don’t go!” he blurts out, gently hugging Tony’s unresponsive body. “Mr. Stark! Please…Tony! I’m sorry! Please just…don’t…” he breaks down into quiet pleads and Stephen’s already cold blood turns into ice when he realizes what’s happening.

“Tony?” Harley joins Peter, kneeling by their side and Tony’s eyes focus on them, a tiny pained smile gracing his bruised lips.

His left hand momentarily returns their careful hold…and then it starts falling apart.

“No no NO!” Peter shakes his head as Tony starts disappearing from within his arms, the reverse image breaking whatever’s left of Stephen’s heart. “Please…do something! Doctor Strange! _Please_!” he glances his way for a second, unable to tear his gaze away from the fluttering dust that now settles where there was a body just a moment ago.

Only the six Infinity stones remain.

The Avengers and all their allies gather around the scene, equally stunned by what just happened.

Stephen can’t make it anywhere near them, falling to his knees where he stands, vision turning blurry with a flood of tears. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Was it?

Timey didn’t show him anything past the snap but surely…this can’t be right. He knew Tony couldn’t survive the snap but that it would take his body as well?!

The two teens stay huddled together, sobbing into each other’s shoulder with only Nebula and Vision daring to approach them to offer comfort. The others fall to their knees, paying respects to their fallen hero.

On the ruined field where the Compound once stood, filled with dust of their enemies – and one ally – Stephen Strange kneels on the ground, his mind blank and heart silently shattering piece by piece, one broken sob at a time.

Mourning the man and the love he would never have.

On the same – yet so different and distant field, similar yet so different future, _a_ Tony Stark also snaps his fingers and with his armor ready and his team behind his back, he watches their Thanos and what remains of his army slowly reappear from the prison that is the Soul world.

All according to plan.

And when a battered and dying Tony Stark reappears along with them, this Tony Stark knows what to do.

This is _their_ endgame. This is all part of _their_ plan. This is where _their_ journey ends.

Only to begin another.

* * *

_“Everybody wants a happy ending, right? But it doesn't always roll that way. _

_Maybe this time.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is all she wrote...for now ^^ 
> 
> Let me know what you think and if the insane sequel I have in mind is something you'd like to see ^^ Because I am not above leaving this in the realm of unhappy endings :3 In fact, the sequel would _hurt_. A lot. Before I would maybe, just maybe...think about something happy to end it with ^^
> 
> [My tumblr hideout ^^](http://lantia.tumblr.com)
> 
> PS: Writing Endgame-compliant stuff should be illegal, because we are basically left to deal with the gigantic plot holes on our own with no context to help. Ignoring - or worse, trying to justify or explain why there was no other way to deal with Thanos damn nearly drove me insane. So...anything not making sense, including the way I interpret the time travel aspect + the parallel universe thing, I blame on the canon ^^ Yaaay :D *kicks the canon in the wheels*


End file.
